


Self-Assessment

by nyagosstar



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Modern Thedas, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 53,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyagosstar/pseuds/nyagosstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian’s just been hired as Director of the Library at Skyhold College and his first day could have gone a little better. A hole in the roof means his plans for a quiet place to do some research while he figures out his life post-Tevinter are on hold. It’s a closer knit community than he was expecting and he finds himself drawn into President Trevelyan’s charming inner circle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time's Forever Frozen

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so I had a cool idea for a DA:I AU and thought, this is something fun to think about on my commute. I said, I will not write this. I will not. 
> 
> And yet. Here we are.

Dorian unlocked the unassuming door to his unfamiliar apartment. The key stuck and he had to try twice before it deigned to let him in. Had it actually stuck, or broken in the lock, it would have been the most fitting end to his day. As it was, he was greeted with utilitarian comfort and echoing silence. 

Someone had slipped his mail through a slot in the door, junk, most of it, the kind of thing that found its way to everyone, even those without permanent addresses. An advertisement for a pizza place down the street, proclaiming it to be ‘under new management’. Just the thought was enough to make Dorian shudder. A letter from his father. Unsurprising that he’d been able track him this far. He threw the whole lot in the trash and then thought better of it, grabbed his father’s letter and set it on fire, his magic precise and controlled, touching only his father’s hand. Better not to let temptation sit so close.

Though he’d stayed late, it was still too early to sleep. In town just three days wasn’t enough time to cement friendships or the beginnings of one. He pulled out his phone and dialed the only voice he wanted to hear.

“How was your first day?” Felix’s voice was soft through Dorian’s cell. It must have been one of his bad days.

Dorian stared at the wall of his apartment, blank of art or television or any kind of distraction. It was a sad little place, hardly befitting someone of his culture and upbringing, but the college was putting him up until he could find a place of his own. He needed the help, there was no denying that, he just wished there was a little more style involved in his charity. “There’s a hole in the ceiling on the third floor.” He rubbed his fingers over his temples and wished he had a drink in his hand to go along with the phone.

Felix, the bastard, laughed. “They must have left that off the tour.”

“No, no. You misunderstand me. That _was_ my first day. There is now a hole in the ceiling on the third floor of the library of which I am now director. The president was in meetings all day so at least I didn’t have to explain in person how I broke her building three hours into my first shift.” The stacks were a mess of masonry and dust. He’d coughed for half an hour after he left the scene. “Thankfully it was our section on Ferelden history, so one or two books about dogs should see it righted. I’m due to meet with the head of facilities in the morning to talk about repairs.” Butch or Buck or some other name that was not a name. “Tell me about Minrathous. It’s stupidly cold here. Do you know it’s just the beginning of fall and I can’t leave my building without a coat?”

Felix was kind enough not to mention his self-imposed exile. It was an argument in which there were no winners and they were tired of fighting. Felix didn’t understand why Dorian felt the need to vacate the country while Dorian worried that Ferelden wasn’t far enough away. How far could his father’s bloody hands reach? His mail certainly still found Dorian with ease.

He pulled off his boots while Felix regaled him with stories of home, parties of excess, political machinations. There’d been an assassination attempt at a gala benefiting the orphans of Seheron and Dorian was so homesick it hurt. He laughed when Felix made appropriate pauses, but his heart wasn’t in it. He’d so much rather have been there to experience it rather than hearing it all second hand. 

An uncomfortable growl sounded from his stomach and Dorian rubbed a hand over his belly to soothe it. His kitchen was bare and the last time he tried to find something within walking distance, he got so lost he had to take a taxi home. He could have ordered something, but he didn’t want to interrupt Felix, desperate for a sliver of home. Instead he went to the closet of a bedroom and threw himself on the narrow little bed. 

Felix’s voice slowed until his story stuttered to a stop with an audible yawn. “Sorry, Dorian, I had an early morning.”

A lie, probably. He was tired most days. “Right, well then, off to bed with you. You need all the rest you can get. I, on the other hand, am beautiful no matter what my state.”

Felix laughed, as Dorian meant him to. “I think I recall more than one morning when you looked less than fresh.”

“Lies and slander,” he said with no heat. Felix had seen him at his worst and still called him friend. “Give my regards to Alexius.” Dorian disconnected the call, proud of himself that he hadn’t asked after his father. Maybe he should have mentioned to Felix that Halward had found his so quickly this time, but it was too late. Felix needed his rest and he didn’t need to spend his time worrying about things he couldn’t control. Likely, he’d just tell Dorian to come home, stop running. 

But Dorian was weak. He couldn’t spend the next several months living in the house of a dying man. Not even his best friend. Oh, the surgeons said there was hope, healers from all over the world flown in on Alexius’ expense accounts said not to lose faith, but Felix was weaker every time Dorian saw him and he couldn’t bear to replace the memories of their sunny, summer-filled youth with the wasted man seated by the window, covered in blankets.

He closed his eyes and tried to find a clear memory. He settled on the summer at Felix’s villa on the lake, where they spent hours swimming through the clear water, the sun endless, and all thoughts of trouble miles and years away. Dorian rolled to his side, tucking a pillow up against his chest as his stomach rumbled again. If he went to sleep, he wouldn’t feel the hunger.


	2. Eyes Were Never Closed

Dorian walked into his office on his second day to a stack of paperwork. Had there been as much when he left the night before? He thought the small nature of Skyhold College would allow him to work on his research in between dealing with the necessities of maintaining their library. Perhaps he should have taken the research position in Redcliffe. Less prestigious, but he wouldn’t have had to face a pile nonsense first thing in the morning.

An hour of work later the pile seemed more manageable. There was a tap on his door and a giant of a Qunari ducked into his office. He felt a flash of unease before he remembered they were more common in the south. Hard on the heels of his discomfort, a different sort of discomfort filled him at the handsome face and impossibly wide chest. “I heard you’re missing part of your roof.” And his voice was not helping. Even the eye patch seemed to suit him rather than distract from his overall appearance.

But Dorian was too much the product of a polished and pampered upbringing to falter at every handsome face. “It came as quite a shock. I was assured when I took this position that the library would be, in fact, a library and not a roost for ravens.” A handful had gotten in through the tarps overnight and he’d been listening to them squawk since he walked through the door.

“We’ll see what we can do about your hole, big guy.” He said it with a straight face, but there was no mistaking his tone, or the way he leaned in, just a bit.

Dorian opened his mouth to respond and found he had no words. 

“Don’t mind the chief,” A smaller man slipped around the bulk in the door and into Dorian’s office. “He knows he’s not supposed to talk to new people before I get to them first.” He stuck out his hand and offered a firm shake. “Krem Aclassi. That’s The Iron Bull, head of facilities. He keeps me around to smooth out potential sexual harassment lawsuits.”

The Iron Bull leaned forward and offered his own hand, just as huge as the rest of him. “A pleasure.”

Dorian took his hand back and tried to remember that he was supposed to be a professional. “The?” 

The Iron Bull shrugged. “The article’s important, but you can call me Bull.” 

“Do you want to come upstairs so we can walk you through the repairs?” Krem elbowed Bull back out the door. 

They’d been advised not to use the elevator until someone came to do an assessment of the damage from the roof, so they hauled up three flights of stairs to the history section. Someone, or more likely several someone’s had already come through to remove the affected books and cover adjacent bookshelves. Newly minted support beams of untreated wood were set at regular intervals around the hole. The hole looked much bigger than Dorian remembered.

“We’ve got a couple guys up there now making sure the rest of the roof doesn’t come in,” Krem said as he walked them around the edges of the hole. “You’re safe enough, we’d have closed the building if there was a chance that the other floors might be affected. By the end of the day we’ll have it the hole sealed off with something better than a tarp.” He went on to explain their plan of work, how much they could do in-house, what they’d have to contract out. It sounded expensive. And lengthy.

“How long before students will have access to this floor again?”

Krem looked to Bull who crossed his arms over his ridiculous chest. “Month, two months. Depends how fast the president can dig up the funds.”

Classes were due to start in two weeks and a significant part of their collection would be unavailable through most of the semester. “Would we be able to take requests from students and have staff collect books as necessary?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. We’re careful as we can be, but things can happen in an open work site. Somebody in the wrong place at the wrong time and it wouldn’t be good.” Bull made a squishing motion with his hand.

Dorian felt a lot less certain that they should be standing so near the damage. “Right. Shall we head back down to somewhere our lives aren’t in imminent peril?”

Bull snorted, almost a laugh and led the way to the stairs. Behind them, there was a shout from someone on the roof, followed by an ominous warning: “Incoming!”

Dorian turned in time to see another chunk of the roof break loose and plummet toward the floor. He didn’t think. There wasn’t time. He brought up a barrier to shield them from flying debris and then reached out to slow the descent of the concrete slab. It settled against the carpet without incident, but he kept the barrier up as Bull ran toward the mess.

“Anyone hurt?”

A narrow face appeared over the opening. “I think the weakness is a little farther spread than we were expecting.”

Bull motioned for both Dorian and Krem to stay back. “Get everyone off the roof. I want double the number of supports in here before anyone goes up again.” He waited until there was an affirmative response before making his way back over to Dorian and Krem. “So, a mage, huh? I thought you were a librarian.”

His posture already perfect, Dorian could only enhance his stature with a tilt of his head. “I am a man of many talents. Generations of selective breeding have produced the man before you, capable of both reading books and burning them.” He held up a hand and produced a small ball of fire, the heat licking at his palms before letting it fade.

Krem snorted. “What’s the use in hiring a mage if he lets the roof fall in?”

“Yes, well. Had I been on the third floor when it happened, it’s likely I could have prevented some of the damage. As it was, I wasn’t even in the building.”

Bull motioned for them to precede him down the stairs and Dorian could have sworn he felt the ghost of a hand on the small of his back. “We’ll be sure to bring you around when we start doing the heavy lifting, then. You can help keep us all in one piece.”

Outside his office, Dorian found the president’s assistance, Lace Harding, waiting for him. As far as he could tell from his admittedly short acquaintance with her, she spent more time running around the campus on odd missions for the president than answering phones.

“The president wants to see you at your earliest convenience. She has a meeting at twelve and again at two, so if you want to catch her before the end of the day, I’d head over now.”

Dorian looked over his shoulder, as if he could somehow see through the floors of his library to the gaping hole. “How does she seem?”

Harding shrugged. “Bout as good as you can expect. You’re new so she’s pretty invested in not scaring you off. That’ll work in your favor.”

The beginnings of a headache started to bloom just behind his eyes and he barely managed not to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was too early for signs of weakness. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. You’ll keep me apprised?” He shook hands again with Krem who nodded and when he turned to Bull, his hand extended, Bull grinned at him. 

“I’m supposed to stop by. I’ll walk you over.” He bypassed Dorian’s gesture and instead rested his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “Krem, you can entertain yourself with Ms. Harding, can’t you?”

“Shut up, Chief.” And it was almost adorable the way both of their faces flushed before Dorian and Bull were out of the door.

The morning sun was just warm enough to take off some of the bite to the wind. Dorian tucked his fingers into the sleeves of his coat out of habit as they set out across campus. “Are you normally a matchmaker in your spare time?”

“A man has to have hobbies. Besides, those two are hopeless. Harding thinks it’s inappropriate to date people she works with and Krem has no idea she’s into him. Between the two of them they have a whole bundle of issues I like to poke at every once in a while.” He turned to look down at Dorian his gaze intense and kind at the same time. Dorian had to look away. “What brings you so far south? Not many Tevinters leave the home country.”

“And why wouldn’t we when we can be surrounded by ice and the smell of wet dog. Shocking there hasn’t been a mass exodus already.” Everything he’d ever been told of the south was not only true but worse. It was amazing they managed to function, let alone thrive. He missed the warmth of the sun and fresh fruit. He missed not having to worry about ridiculous things like jobs and bills. He missed using magic without looks of fear. There was a charming sense of freedom in other ways, it was almost nice when he wasn’t immediately recognized, when lips curled because of his accent instead of his proclivities. But he’d go back in an instant if he knew he’d be welcomed. “It was time for a change of scenery. Beautiful paradise can get so boring after a while.” He twisted the ring on his first finger with his thumb. “What about you? You’re a long way from home.”

“Like you said, change of scenery. Can’t spend a whole life killing ‘Vints.”

Dorian stumbled and Bull reached out to catch his elbow, keeping him upright and stable. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” His tone was serious and light at the same time. “You seem like a good sort, the president likes you, so I’m not overly worried about your magic fingers.” 

“Fear isn’t what most people feel when they encounter my magic fingers.” After thirty odd years Dorian would have thought he’d be better at controlling the things that came out of his mouth without his leave. And yet.

Bull, instead of being offended, laughed. “Huh. I bet.” 

Still in the midst of summer break—no matter what the unseasonably cool temperatures might leave a person to believe—there were few students on campus and fewer employees out between buildings. The handful they passed raised hands in greeting to Bull and nodded in Dorian’s general direction in a somewhat cooler fashion.

“You seem popular.”

Bull shrugged. “I buy rounds.” He pointed to a tall building near the middle of campus. “There’s a bar on campus—“

“Priorities,” Dorian snorted.

“And a couple nights a week you can find folks who work here, instructors, grad students. You should come by, let people know you’re more than books.”

Dorian hummed a noncommittal sound. Though he loved wine, he doubted they had any good vintages in a campus bar. And he also preferred to not spend his free time with people who mistrusted him. “I’ll think about it.”

Bull held the door for him when they got to the president’s building, a huge, almost churchy looking monstrosity. It seemed like the kind of place for banquets and royal decrees and less like meetings about parking spaces. The door to her office was open, convenient as Harding was out running errands. The president was on the phone, but she smiled in greeting and waved them in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm pretty sure that if part of your roof is missing, your whole building gets closed, but I hadn't really considered that when I started writing this, so we're just kind of going to go with it for now. I feel like magic is probably the answer here.


	3. Raise My Head

Dorian tried to appear like he wasn’t listening to the president’s half of the phone call as she wrapped up her business. It didn’t sound much like matters pertaining to the college, but matters of business weren’t always apparent. He looked around the office, degrees on the wall, several pieces of art in mismatched styles. She had a set of photographs on her desk facing her and Dorian wondered if he’d be able to lean forward to look at them without appearing nosy. 

“My apologies, gentlemen,” she said after she hung up the phone. She looked younger than he remembered from his interviews, brown skin, messy brown hair. She could have been a graduate student. “Business, you understand? Dorian, how are you settling in?”

He cleared his throat to give him a few extra seconds of time. He expected they’d jump right to the matter of the library. “Well, thank you, President Trevelyan.” 

“Oh, please, please call my Evelyn. We’re too small a school to stand on titles.” She smiled and Dorian was certain that her sweet, kind nature was about to turn on him. “Now. Tell me about what you’ve done to my library.”

Dorian held in a sigh through long years of practice holding his poise in front of others, but it was a near thing. “There is,” he paused. “Significant damage to the third floor.”

“Nothing we could have seen coming, boss.” Dorian turned to Bull, surprised he’d come to his defense so quickly. “Looks like when they added the floor thirty years ago, nobody was thinking long term. They needed space and had just enough money to do a shit job.” He spread his hands. “I’ve got my boys working on it, but it’s going to be a mess for a while. Unless you can dig up money to make it go faster.”

Evelyn sighed. “If someone had told me that ninety percent of my job would be asking for money, I would have stayed in my cozy teaching position.” She turned to Dorian. “How are you at writing grants?”

Dorian heard the memory of Alexius’ voice in the back of his head, offering him the kind of practical wisdom that Dorian kept coming back to. “I, of course, excel at everything I put my hand to.”

“Except not ending a sentence in a preposition,” Bull muttered.

He turned, surprise puncturing his air of authority. “What?”

Bull shrugged. “I like language.”

Dorian turned back and was faced with Evelyn’s amused smile. “How about this: have you written a grant before?”

He straightened a little in his chair. “Not as such, no, but I’m certain I can make short work of it.”

“All right, get in touch with Josie in College Relations. They should have some leads for you. How would you feel about talking to some potential donors when I can get them lined up?”

In this, Dorian had full confidence and he nodded as Bull leaned forward and spoke before Dorian could offer his assurance. “I bet he could out-honey a bee.”

Evelyn regarded them both for a moment before carrying on with the details of the repairs. Bull gave her a run-down of expected materials and possible problems. Dorian expressed his concern for the books remaining on the third floor. They worked through temporary solutions and finished with Dorian feeling overall like he wasn’t going to be fired on his second day.

When they stood to leave, Evelyn asked for Bull to stay just a moment, Bull, in turn jerked his thumb toward the door. “Wait for me?”

Dorian hid his surprise and left the room, leaning against the far wall. The same mishmash of paintings decorated the exterior hallways, making Dorian curious about their significance. The low murmur of Bull and Evelyn’s voices carried out into the hall, their tone friendly and warm even if Dorian couldn’t make out the individual words. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. A picture from Felix, their house cat, soaked and spitting from where it had clearly mis-stepped into a fountain. Felix had captioned the photo with, _Made me think of you. Hope day 2 is better._

_Well, I didn’t get fired, so_

_We’re so proud_

Dorian snorted. He could hear the false enthusiasm through Felix’s text as clearly as if he’d spoke them standing in the same room. He wished, well. It didn’t do to wish for things that couldn’t happen.

Bull came out a moment later and tilted his head in question at the grin still lingering on Dorian’s lips. Dorian shook his head to indicate it was nothing, then waved a hand to the door of the president’s office, now closed. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah, just Evelyn trying to put her nose where it doesn’t belong. One of her most enduring traits, so watch out for that.” 

The walk back to the library was mostly silent. Dorian was at a loss for what to talk about other than the weather: cold, and the hole: big, and he felt they’d covered those topics already. Bull didn’t seem to mind the silence and didn’t break it until they crossed the threshold into the building.

“I’ll be coming around in the mornings to give up updates on the work, what we got done the day before, what we’re expecting to do that day, those kinds of things. If you’re looking for numbers for your grants, Krem’s your guy. Send him an email and he’ll get you what you need.”

They came up on the hallway that split to his office. “Thanks.”

“It’s all part of the service.” He patted Dorian’s shoulder, his hand lingering maybe a second longer than appropriate for newly met colleagues and then he was gone. 

In his office, more paperwork appeared in his absence and he had no idea who even brought it to him. The College was too small for him to have anything as extravagant as an assistant. Maybe it was one of the workers, half a dozen faces he was trying hard to keep with names. He should know who to thank at the least. 

He sent an email to Josie, who he’d met briefly during his series of interviews, bookmarked a few sites to read on writing grants and then settled in to the paperwork, most of which centered around the new skylight on his third floor. All the while trying not to feel the lingering warmth of Bull’s touch on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last bit of set up/worldbuilding before we start moving into more plotty type things.


	4. Wake to Dream Anew

Bull lied. 

He stopped in Dorian’s office far more than once a day. The next morning, they had a short chat where Dorian managed to keep his sense of dignity and Bull left with a raised hand in farewell. Dorian didn’t expect to see Bull again unless it was by accident, maybe with his shirt off working in the sun. Not that Dorian had imagined the scenario at all. Instead, the man made a nuisance of himself dropping in, as it seemed, the mood struck him.

#

“I thought mages wore those dress things?”

Dorian looked up to find Bull lounging against his open door, his head tilted to keep his horns from damaging the molding. “Do you mean robes?”

“I guess if that’s what you want to call them.”

“It’s not what I want to call them. That’s what they’re _called_. Robes, not dresses. And I do have a set, but they’re for formal occasions.” He gestured to his pile of paperwork, the kind that was never ending in its pettiness and necessity. “Did you have an update on the roof?”

“No, just thinking, bet you’d look real nice in a dress.”

Dorian’s outrage caught in his throat, warring with the slow flush that started in the pit of his stomach and worked its way out. “I have work to do.”

#

“Hey, big guy there’s a—“

“Ugh!” Dorian leaned back as far as his chair allowed. “Do you think you could come see me before your hours and hours of physical labor?”

“You like it,” he grinned. “Besides, we can’t all smell like,” he leaned in a little farther into the room, his nostrils flaring, “What is that? Lavender?”

“Get out.”

#

Dorian thanked Fiona as she dropped off the afternoon’s mail. Everything looked to be official business or at least tangentially related to the College. He wondered if Halward would try to reach him through official channels, but it seemed so plebeian Dorian didn’t expect it.

Bull lingered in the hall, then ducked into the office when Dorian waved him in. “It’s a pretty good staff you’ve got here.”

He smiled, thinking that even with their hesitation at his accent and magic, they were polite and knew how to do their jobs. He thought that eventually, the might even relax around him. Perhaps there might be a time in the future when they moved beyond the polite inquiries about well-being and weather. They worked in a library, books were bound to be a safe topic and Dorian was sure that one day they would get there. “Most remarkable,” he said without any of his usual sarcasm.

There was a pause in the conversation and Dorian wondered if he’d managed to surprise Bull, but then the man leered at him. “Be sure not to work that staff too hard.”

“That is completely inappropriate.”

#

“It’s not usually this cold so early in the year.”

It sounded like a lie. Dorian had his coat draped over his legs, his scarf still around his neck and his was honestly considering buying gloves from the college bookstore so he could continue typing. “Having a great gaping hole in my building isn’t helping.” He was in no mood to be pushed.

“The pampered north isn’t looking too bad, now, is it?”

Dorian hunched forward, his shoulders drooping at the memory of saunas, hot stone massages, oil rubbed into every inch of his skin by some anonymous attendant. “What I wouldn’t give for a little pampering.” He cleared his throat when he heard the sound of longing in his own voice. No weakness. He straightened. “No wonder the culture struggles. The cold burns it out of them.”

#

The library was quiet. Summer hours meant they closed at six and most of his staff was long gone for the day. Outside the sun was sinking on the end of his first week and Dorian was still at his desk looking at the picturesque green fields instead of being outside to enjoy them. The paperwork could wait; it was mostly busywork as he’d driven through the important bits early in the day. The truth was, once he left his office, he had a long stretch of two days cooped up in his little apartment as he waited for the workweek to start all over again.

Someone knocked on his open door and Dorian looked up, fully expecting Fiona reminding him to go home. Instead Bull leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, in casual clothes in hideous clashing colors instead of the College issued polo he normally wore. Dorian would have to thank Evelyn the next time he saw her for providing muted, complimentary colors for the facilities staff. “I think the library’s closed,” Bull said.

Dorian leaned back and rubbed his fingers into his eyes to relieve some of the tension. “Had I known that a small college library would be more taxing than debating those fools in the Circle of Magi, I might have reconsidered my application.”

“Real work getting you down?” Bull crossed into the room and dropped into a chair opposite Dorian.

“Yes, clever. I’ve not worked a day in my life, this is all so new and hard.” As if he hadn’t spent years in his studies, as if he hadn’t devoted his life to the study to time magic knowing it was an impossibility. “If you’re done? I’d like to finish this before it gets dark.”

Bull stood and Dorian tried to curb the disappointment that arced through him. Instead of leaving, though Bull held out his hand. “Come on. You survived your first week, that’s reason enough to get out of here. Some of us are meeting down at the Herald’s Rest. I’ll buy your first round.”

He hesitated, but honestly the thought of alcohol and not having to go home to his sterile little apartment was enough for him to stack the papers on the corner of his desk and stand. “A Pavus never turns from the promise of drinks.” He motioned Bull out of the office and once they were in the hall turned to lock his door. Again, he felt the ghost of a touch along the small of his back, but when he turned, Bull was an appropriate distance away.

“Oh, yeah? Anything else on offer you can’t turn down?”

Dorian rolled his eyes and pushed past Bull. He locked up the library on his way out and set out across the green. He replayed their interactions in his mind, not sure what it was that tipped Bull off. He thought he was harder to read. “I’m not sure if this is your attempt to make me feel comfortable, but I can assure you it is entirely unnecessary.”

“Hmmm?”

“This,” he gestured between them. “Your, those comments and touches. There’s no need for you to be overly attentive just because I’m,” he breathed out a sharp breath and kept his eyes trained on their destination.

Bull bumped him with his arm. “Because you’re what?”

“I’m gay.” A flash of heat rolled over his body and his heart picked up at the words, spoken so freely in the south, but the fear of years of hiding wasn’t something he could shake off at the border. “It’s a thing enlightened straight men do when they want me to know they’re not uncomfortable around me,” he waved his hand. “The flirting and whatnot. It’s not necessary.” It had happened a couple of times in Tevinter and then with increasing frequency in the south where such things were more acceptable.

Bull laughed, long and loud. He stopped in the middle of the green and bent over, his hand on his knee as he cackled. “Oh, man. Thanks, I needed that after the week I’ve had.” He slapped Dorian’s shoulder, the impact hard enough to shove him two steps forward. “I’m not straight, big guy.”

“But,” He’d seen Bull with women. He’d heard stories of Bull and various red heads. He was a popular break room topic. “What about Maryden?” Half a dozen people had offered to show him pictures of the incident in the bar from last summer.

Bull pointed a thumb at himself. “Bisexual. I like everyone. Even pretty mages from Tevinter.” He blinked then, slow and deliberate.

“Did you, did you just wink at me?” Ridiculous. No matter how warm he felt at being called pretty. It was just common sense, after all, and about time someone in Skyhold recognized his beauty.

“Man’s got to work with what he’s got.” 

Instead of dealing with the revelation and the conversation Bull clearly was offering to have, Dorian started walking again. If he had pockets, he would have shoved his hands into them. As it was, he didn’t know what to do with them so they swung uselessly at his sides. “Will there be many people there, do you think?” The change in topic felt awkward, but necessary, he thought.

“Should be. Sometimes the president stops by with Josie before they head out for the night. Cullen likes to tell us he’s watching out for trouble, but we can get a round or two of cards out of him. Some of my boys will be there.”

“Does it bother them, that you call them your boys when they’re not all men?”

“Not yet. They take it as it’s meant, I suppose.”

Bull held the door for him and Dorian tried not to let it feel like it was more. It was dark inside the bar and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. In the tables spread out across the open floor he recognized several faces and could put names to a small handful. One of the tables near the back of the bar raised a shout in greeting as Bull crossed the threshold. He waved to them and then dragged Dorian to the bar.

The bartender had a glass ready for Bull when he stepped up. Then he turned his unimpressed glare at Dorian. “What do you want?”

He hesitated too long, debating the merits of what he might find in such a place and a moment later the bartender slid a glass across the counter that looked exactly like Bull’s. He muttered his thanks while Bull paid and then turned away to hide his face when he took a sip. Bitter and watery at the same time. Southerners were a marvel.

Bull put a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the table that cheered as he entered. There were a few nods and some polite smiles as Dorian sat down, but Bull’s presence at his side seemed to be worth something in social capital. He let the conversation flow around him, smiling his attentive, party smile at in-jokes and references to people he didn’t know. He played a few rounds of Wicked Grace, but it had never really been his game and he enjoyed watching far more than playing. He did his best to be charming and he was thoroughly exhausted after he finished his second round of drinks. 

He pushed aside the empty glass, it got better the more he drank of it, and stood. “That’s the night for me.” He tipped an imaginary hat, rested his hand on Bull’s shoulder for just a moment, and then slipped out of the bar and into the clear night air. 

It was cool, but not cold and he felt like he could breathe for the first time in hours. He relaxed, could relax, without anyone watching. It was like they were waiting as they cast sidelong glances as if Tevinter mages burst into abominations and blood hungry maniacs on a regular. Though, considering some of the gala’s he’d attended in his youth, perhaps they were right to worry.

The noise and distraction of the bar had been nice, and he’d have to remember to thank Bull when he saw him again for the invitation. But the emptiness of the walk home and the silence of his apartment was deeper, in contrast. It was too late to call Felix. He really needed to buy something to come home to. A pet of some kind. The place was already overrun with dogs, but perhaps he could find a cat with a sweet disposition. Anything to help fill up the space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite bits to write so far, other than the part I'm working on right now. This is also where I feel like the whole thing starts to really gel and not feel so much like set up.


	5. Tell Yourself This

The problem, Dorian realized, was that he needed a hobby. Something other than research or throwing himself onto the sword of other people’s problems. Something less likely to lead him into a well of despair and self-destruction. He wasn’t a young man anymore and drunken orgies were more awkward in the morning than he cared to remember. And there was the added danger of one of his father’s men finding him and kidnapping him home if he let himself become too unaware of his surroundings. 

No, he needed something to keep him occupied during his time away from the College, something productive. His days at the College were busy and full. Teaching himself to write grant proposals in addition to dealing with the regular day to day activities was a challenge, one he found he enjoyed. But once he packed up for the day and put his evening call to Felix behind him, there was nothing to fill the hours until it was time to start again in the morning.

He debated the benefits of a pet and eventually decided that brushing cat hair off of everything he owned wasn’t how he wanted to spend his time. He didn’t own a lot of furniture, but what he did have, he’d like to keep unscratched. Felix was constantly replacing his reading chair as their housecat clawed the legs during the night when no one was around to tell it no. 

There were a handful of clubs in the area, but after his first experience, Dorian was hesitant to return. The music was too loud, the men too young and after one of them tried to slip something in his drink, he was done for the evening. But not before showing the boy the error of his ways with a flashy bit of fire and the promise of further retribution if he didn’t change his ways.

There were flyers on the bulletin board just inside the entrance to the library boasting clubs and actives for students and staff alike. Some of them sounded interesting—there was a book club that met once a month to discuss new releases, but once a month still left him with a lot of free time. The more frequent clubs often involved nature, weekly outings to hike local parks and reserves. As empty as his time was, Dorian had no desire to go tromping through nature with all of its ghastly bugs and weather. 

His first paycheck came in the next week and Dorian spent an hour at his kitchen table dividing the sum. There was money to go to food and bills, money to set aside for a place of his own since the College was only covering the apartment for six months. He started an emergency fund and tried not to think about what he might have to use that money for. It didn’t leave him much, but there was a little left over to buy something for himself. 

He worked in a library, so he had access to all the books he could ever want, so his first impulse to buy books was unnecessary. Internet searches led him to a couple of options and after days of plotting and planning, Dorian bought a television. Flat and shiny, it gave him access to hundreds of channels and when he signed up for Netflix, he thought he’d never leave his apartment again. Years of hearing his father talk about Soporati families who wasted their evenings gathered around a television instead of bettering themselves, or his mother curling her lip at the slick magazines the children of visitors sometimes left behind. The Pavus household was above television.

Which turned out to be shit, because television was amazing. 

There were people like him. Sometimes a single character in an ensemble, sometimes whole shows with nothing but people like him. Though he had to stop himself from glancing over his shoulder when the gay/lesbian list showed up as a browsing choice on Netflix, the lingering panic of ‘what if someone sees’ hard to chase away after a lifetime of indoctrination. But he was safe and he was allowed and he watched everything they offered. No matter how bad or sad or ridiculous. He consumed them all.

When Bull stopped in for updates or nonsense comments, Dorian quizzed him about the shows he watched. He asked everyone what their favorites were: what movies they liked, what shows were worth watching, which documentaries were well crafted. In a community where he was often met with just a hint of suspicion, it turned out everyone liked to talk about television and they were all equally happy to give their own suggestions.

Krem laughed when Dorian admitted he’d never seen anything, and then wrote down a fifteen item list. “You won’t believe what southerners think about Tevinter. Those are mostly supposed to be serious dramas, but I can’t watch them with a straight face. You’ll love them.”

He did love them. They were terrible with bad sets and worse accents. Evil Tevinter Mages flitted across his screen in ever evolving plots of mayhem. They were almost always foiled by some bright, earnest Ferelden who wanted to help people and everyone learned a lesson. It was delightful.

“Plans for the weekend, big guy?” Bull came in at the end of the day, again changed out of his work clothes and into something that would make his family’s tailor weep. Dorian wondered if he went home to change and came back or if he brought a change on Friday’s on purpose. An outfit that bad was certainly no accident.

“Yes,” he could barely conceal his excitement. “I’m going to see a movie.”

“Nice, which one?”

Dorian shook his head. “I don’t know.” They all looked good. “I thought I’d show up and see what struck me.”

“And the person you’re going with doesn’t mind?”

Dorian stopped packing away his things and looked up. “The person I’m going with? I’m going by myself.” He thought about the shows he’d watched were people when to the movies and realized no one ever went alone. “Is that a requirement? To have someone else?”

Bull sat in the chair Dorian was beginning to think of as his and kicked his feet up on the edge of Dorian’s desk. “Nah, not a requirement, but lots of people don’t like going by themselves. Don’t know how to be alone in public, I think.”

“Oh.” It was easy in his apartment where he could laugh at the jokes or talk back to characters about to do something terrible. He hadn’t considered what it would be like to be surrounded by strangers, without a friendly face in the crowd. “Well, there’s nothing for it, then. You’ll have to come with me.”

“You want me to come?”

Dorian cleared his throat and looked out the window, anywhere but at Bull. “Unless you don’t like movies. I’d like to repay you for the drinks.” He’d declined Bull’s invitation at the end of his second week and the lingering debt caught at the edges of his thoughts whenever he saw Bull.

“Nothing to be repaid. But, what’s not to love about movies? Popcorn, candy, dark, cool theaters.” Dorian could hear the grin in his voice. “When were you planning to go?”

“Tomorrow? I don’t have a car. I was just going to walk to the little place just up the street.”

Bull waved a hand. “The Skyhold Film Institute? They’re good, but more for like art films and intellectual discussions afterward. For your first movie, you need to go to one of the big places. I’ll pick you up, where do you live?”

Dorian reshuffled his papers. “I’m in the housing on Carver. Building 6.”

“The College is putting you up, huh? I’ll come by in the afternoon and we’ll go see what strikes you.” Bull stood and Dorian hurried to write his cell number down on a post-it.

“Call me when you’re on your way over. I’ll be sure to be ready.”

Bull gave him a lazy salute with the post-it and sauntered out of the office while Dorian tried very hard not to think of it as a date, when it was so very much like the dates he’d seen in all of his new television shows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in love with the idea of Dorian being obsessed with television. IDK, it seems like the right kind of temptation for him, and I love him discovering it as an adult.


	6. How it's Going to Be

“So, you’re going on a date.” Felix had no right to sound so gleeful.

“It’s not a date.”

“But he’s picking you up, you’re seeing a movie, where you’ll sit next to each other in a darkened theater for two hours. Afterward, you might get an early dinner, if you both have no other plans. It sounds like a date.”

Had he not spent an hour fussing with his hair, he would have run his hand through it in frustration. As it was, he clenched his free hand instead. “No, it’s two friends on an outing. It’s a thing that friends do, too. I looked it up.”

Felix laughed, bright peals that sounded clearer than they had in months. “You looked it up. Did you search for ‘things that are not dates?’ How the House Pavus has fallen.”

“Laugh all you like. Southern customs are peculiar. I thought it best to be prepared.” He looked at himself in the mirror, knowing there was not a hair out of place, a wrinkle in his clothes. It kept him from pacing the length of the apartment, though.

“Will you send me a picture of your not-date? Is he very pretty?” Felix thought he knew Dorian’s type, always commenting on the pretty faces Dorian seemed to gravitate towards, but really, in Tevinter it was more a matter of convenience, timing and availability rather than type.

Bull, though. Bull ticked off all the right boxes. “He’s,” he paused, not sure of the wording when another call flashed incoming. “He’s on the other line. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Yes, I want all the details. And a picture.”

“Goodbye, Felix,” he said firmly and switched to Bull. “Hello?”

“Dorian!” His voice was loud over the drone of some kind of music and the roar of an engine. “I’ll be at your place in a couple minutes. You ready?”

“I’ll be out front.” He hung up before he could say anything foolish and tried to put Felix’s words out of his mind. It was not a date. It was a friendly outing and it was kind of Bull to indulge him in his new experience. With a last look in the mirror to assure himself everything was in place, he left his apartment and hurried down the stairs to stand on the sidewalk in front of his building. 

The roar of Bull’s truck thundered up the street well before Dorian caught sight of the vehicle. Already big, it was the kind that had been adapted for Qunari occupants, with a taller roof to accommodate horns. Dusty red, it looked like it’d spent one too many summers in the sun, but there wasn’t a spot of rust and despite the noise, it had none of the rattle so common in an older model.

Bull pulled to a stop and then reached over to pop the door for Dorian, who had to hoist himself into the cab with the help of the handle above the window and not a little muscle. Stairs wouldn’t have been amiss. The interior was also clean and well cared for, most of the metal had the polished looked of brand new, or newish and the long bench seat had been reupholstered in the recent past.

“This is quite a machine,” Dorian said over the roar as Bull pulled back out into traffic. He’d only ridden in limousines or sleek town cars until he left Tevinter. The hours he’d spent crammed into a bus seat next to chatty, handsy strangers made him wish he’d allowed Alexius to buy him the plane ticket out of the country. 

Bull rubbed his hand in a slow, petting motion over the dash. “She’s a good girl. Almost fifteen years old and still keeping up with me. You ever driven something like this?” He kept his attention focused on the road, but the slight tilt of his chin in Dorian’s direction let him know Bull was also focused on his answer.

“I’ve never _been_ in something like this.”

“You want to have a go? Maybe on the way back?”

It was probably the most generous offer he’d had since he’d crossed the border south. Effortless and earnest, Dorian tried to find a hidden motive and couldn’t. Instead, he smoothed his hands along his seat belt. “I never, that is,” he huffed out a short breath, painfully aware that his next sentence was going to make him sound very inch the spoiled brat. “We had drivers, so I never learned.”

Bull braked at a stoplight and turned to him. “Do you want to learn?” He sounded curious, not surprised or horrified to find that Dorian didn’t possess a skill that most Ferelden children learned by the age of sixteen. Like it was an easy thing for him to offer and just as easy for Dorian to accept.

“I don’t know.”

Bull shrugged and turned back to the road. “All right. Let me know if you’re interested. There are some good spaces on campus in the evenings when the staff clears out of the parking lots. We wouldn’t want to start you on a highway.”

Dorian looked out the window as he imagined himself behind the wheel of Bull’s monstrosity. Halward Parvus’ look of horror was enough to decide for him. “If you have the time. That would be, I think I would like that.”

They kept up an easy round of chatter until Bull slowed and pulled into the parking lot of a building that looked more like a convention center than a movie theater. Its sign boasted twenty four screens and the parking lot was big enough to hold every car on Skyhold’s campus with room for some of the buildings. Bull navigated through the mass of cars and people, the line of cars with their emergency flashers parked up near the entrance to a space that was a short walk away.

After hopping out of the truck, Dorian led the way across the parking lot at an intense pace, anxious to get inside. The doors were covered in colorful advertisements for upcoming movies and a rush of cold air and the heavy scent of popcorn rushed at him when he opened them. He stopped in the doorway, overwhelmed and giddy.

Someone behind them swore. “Can you move?”

Dorian jumped, but Bull dropped a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. “Plenty of other doors, friend.” To Dorian, he said, “Have your moment.”

As much as he appreciated the gesture, the moment was passed. He stepped aside and looked to the board of movies and times. They arrived early enough to catch five or six different features and he had no idea which one to pick. He’d thought that, once he was standing in the theater with the choices laid out in front of him, he’d be struck with some kind of inspiration. But they all still looked interesting, even the colorful animated feature intended for children. He’d watched one the other night after work that made him cry like he hadn’t since he was a small child himself.

“Any thoughts, big guy?”

A sigh escaped him as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I have no idea. Is there anything you like?” He waved his hand at the board.

“I’m not particular as long as it’s not in 3D.” He tapped his eye patch. “Doesn’t work so well with just the one.” That cut them down to four choices, two starting almost immediately and two in the next half hour. “If we pick one of the later shows, it gives us time to grab snacks and seats.”

Dorian nodded, walked up to the counter and picked the first movie on the list, a quiet thriller. He paid for both tickets, batting away Bull’s hand as he tried to hand over his own cash. The cashier slid the tickets under the glass partition and then looked to Bull. 

“Qunari seating is in the back of the theater to accommodate our patrons of smaller stature.” Her smile was fake and empty and then she called a greeting to the person behind them.

They made their way over to the concessions. “Does that happen often?”

Bull shrugged. “Makes sense, I guess. I wouldn’t want to be a dwarf sitting behind me in a theater.”

Though Bull didn’t seem to be bothered, Dorian had a hard time letting the interaction go. He wondered what their reaction would be if he asked where the special seating for mages was located? He stewed through the line and Bull’s ordering until Bull shoved a giant cup into one of his hands and a stack of boxed candy in the other.

“It’s not a big deal. If I was offended, they’d hear about it, believe me.” He nudged Dorian’s shoulder until he smiled at the playful shoves. “Thanks for being willing to stick up for me, though.”

The Qunari seating was actually quite comfortable. Bull fit into the space with ease and Dorian had enough room in his seat that he could tuck his legs up under him. The air was more chill than he was expecting. They shared the drink between them—overly sweet and carbonated, the candy—artificially sweet and chewy, and the popcorn—salty and slightly stale. The previews made him long for movies that he would be able to see for months and the feature, once the lights dimmed, drew him in with ease. 

The only distraction was Bull himself. His arm rested next to Dorian and the heat the man put out was incredible. In the silent, tense moments on screen, Dorian listened to the steady cadence of Bull’s breaths. When Dorian held his breath during the action sequences, Bull tensed beside him and he could have sworn Bull was going to reach across the divide and take his hand, but he moment always passed.

They finished everything Bull bought by the time the credits rolled, but as they left the theater, Dorian was strangely hungry, his stomach growling as they stepped into the fresh air of the parking lot.

“Hungry? I know a couple good places around here.”

The memory of Felix’s laugh echoed in Dorian’s ears. He would be insufferable when Dorian told him about his outing. “It seems I am, if I’m not holding you up from something important.”

Dorian expected Bull to brush him off, tell him that a man had to eat, or that eating was important. Instead he huffed out a half laugh. “Cleared my schedule just for you. You’re the only important thing I’ve got going today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix is a good friend and Dorian is so clueless. 
> 
> Also, I love the idea of Bull teaching Dorian to drive. I will probably never write it, but I enjoy thinking about it. For reasons.


	7. I'm Like a Jackdaw

Bull drove them to a strip mall near the theater, the ride quite as Dorian tried to recover from Bull’s announcement. It sounded more and more like Felix’s idea of a date, but Dorian was pretty sure that to be on a date, both parties had to know about it. It wasn’t the kind of thing just one person was in on. Was it?

The strip mall was well past its prime. Sad faded signs, windows that had once been smoothed with tint were flaked and marked with air bubbles in the late afternoon sun. The lines in the parking lot were mostly gone, but it didn’t matter much as there were a handful of cars to fill the spaces.

Dorian cast a glance at Bull as they parked, but didn’t say anything. Bull’d been right about the theater and their choice of snacks. To start doubting him now seemed rude. He got out of the truck and saw immediately the place Bull intended to take him. The sign, in letters stylized to mimic Tevene, named the place as The Qarinus Kitchen. Dorian nearly stumbled over the lip of the sidewalk. He couldn't remember if he'd told Bull about where he was from, or if the restaurant was some kind of coincidence. 

He edged after Bull, wary of what he would find inside. During his first week at Skyhold, Josie asked to meet him over lunch in the cafeteria. They served a Tevinter-style buffet and it was so bad, so far removed from anything that would have been found in his homeland he ended up eating limp lettuce and called it a better deal. 

Dark inside, the scent of cooking meats and spices hit him in a way that stole his breath. It smelled like home. Well, not his home, but the way Felix’s house smelled during family celebrations and parties. The walls were painted in warm colors and the tables were in dark wood. They sat in a booth by the window and an old man came over to pour them hot coffee. He muttered a greeting in Tevene that Dorian replied to without thinking.

The man grinned then, exposing a mouthful of bright, even teeth and they had a short conversation. Dorian admitted he was from Qarinus and they traded stories about the city. When the old man asked how Dorian came to find himself in Skyhold, Dorian had his story ready. He evaded the particulars with ease and kept his tone light. He’d practiced in a mirror over and over until the tale both looked and sounded natural. Their conversation wound down and the man asked if Dorian had any thoughts about his meal. Dorian didn't both to look at the menu and instead asked him to bring them a spread of whatever he thought best. He sat back against the booth and noticed Bull smiling at him.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Nice to see you relaxed, is all.”

Dorian didn't think he spent much of his time particularly uptight, but it didn't seem like the kind of conversation that made for an easy meal. So, he looked around the interior of the restaurant. “This doesn’t seem like the sort of place you’d frequent.”

A strip of sunlight highlighted the long line of Bull's chin as he leaned back. “The food is good, and we come here when Krem’s feeling homesick. One of the young guys,” he jerked his thumb back toward the kitchen, “tried to start something with me the first time we were here, but nothing ever came of it.”

Their conversation was easy after that as they discussed the movie and what Dorian thought of the experience. Dorian had a hard time following the plot of the movie in the theater as he was distracted by the experience itself, though he didn't admit that Bull's presence in particular made it difficult for him to focus. The food came, piles of it, and they divided portions and continued talking through spicy mouthfuls and more coffee. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, but the taste was so good and so familiar he couldn’t bring himself to care. He stuffed himself in a way he was sure was unattractive, but one last bite turned into just one more piece turned into might as well finish the plate.

He wanted dessert, but was so full there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to walk out of the restaurant under his own power. Bull tried to pay the bill as they ended their meal. He put up a good fight, insisting he’d chosen the venue, but Dorian wouldn’t be swayed. The food and the conversation had been more than worth the price of dinner.

When the old man came back with his change after he paid, he slipped a box of sweets into Dorian’s hands. “Take these with you. For later.” He patted Dorian’s face, the calloused cup of his hand strange. He'd seen similar, casual touches between family members of the Soporati while shopping or in other public places, but had never been on the receiving end of it. Even from Alexius who was as close to an affectionate familial member as Dorian had. “You’re a good boy, your father must be proud.”

Dorian stilled at the words and tried not to react, but something must have shown in his face. He couldn’t look away from the man’s kind eyes, couldn’t speak.

The man patted him again. “Or perhaps he should be. Come again. Any time.” He walked off to greet a new set of customers waiting at the door.

Once, when Dorian was very small, he accompanied his father to an open air market in Qarinus. Halward didn’t do anything as provincial as hold Dorian’s hand, but Dorian was instructed not to wander off and not to touch anything. The booths and stalls had been filled with a wondrous array of temptations, food and toys, silks and sweets. 

He stayed overlong at the window of a toy shop where carved animals crowed the display. There was a wooden duck, stained dark brown, its eyes painted a lovely blue. He wanted the duck and by the time he turned to ask his father for it, Halward was gone, lost in the press of legs and shopping bags.

Though terrified, Dorian didn’t cry. He walked back the way they came until he found the booth with the men in uniform and told them he was missing his father. They set him up on the counter and gave him juice in a box small enough to fit in his hand with a tiny straw—the kind he’d seen Soporati children with in parks, but had never been allowed to have. They let him color on a map of the market until his father was found and brought back to the booth.

Instead of being proud that Dorian kept his composure and found his own way out of trouble, he pulled Dorian down from the counter and dragged him away in silence, their shopping trip canceled. As soon as they were in the solitude of their town car, beyond the eyes of the public, Halward scolded him, his voice raised in anger. He was sent to his room the moment they crossed the threshold and was not allowed to leave for the rest of the day. Dorian never went out in public with his father alone again.

Dorian shook the memory from his thoughts as they drove back toward the College, forcing a pleasant expression on his face instead of the frown he could feel there. He resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest or flick at the buckles on his shirt. “Do you live far from the College?” Some of his staff, he knew, had commutes close to an hour.

“I live on campus.”

“No. Really?” He tried to picture Bull in a door room and found he couldn’t get past the image of him trying to squeeze into one of the narrow beds.

He shrugged. “It’s part of the job. There’s a little house back behind the tennis courts. It means when we get buried in six feet of snow there’s someone on campus to make sure the whole place doesn’t go to shit. And I’m on call for emergencies.”

“Don’t you ever get a break?” Though he’d struggled to find something to fill his non-work hours, he couldn’t imagine having nothing but work.

“I’m having one right now. And there are less emergencies than you’d expect in my job. Not much that can’t wait till the next time my boys are in, anyway.”

Dorian let the silence fall between them again as he apartment loomed in the near distance. He still wasn’t sure exactly what the nature of their outing was, and the comment from the old man had thrown him. He wasn’t quite ready to lose Bull’s presence, though.

Bull pulled the truck around the parking lot and pulled into a space, the engine idling, but not off. He turned to Dorian. “This was good. You enjoyed yourself?”

“I, yes.” He undid his seat belt and picked up the takeaway box. He took a fortifying breath and looked square into Bull’s eye. “We still have dessert to get through. Do you want to come up?” Only one way to know.

Bull turned off the truck. “Yeah. Show me how mages live.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole piece has ended up being more about Halward than I was expecting when I started. Funny how these sorts of things crop up. I think it's the nature of Dorian's character and how he's carrying these unresolved issues with him.


	8. Scratching at Your Windowpane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a few things. 
> 
> Please note the change in rating. I didn’t expect to be writing any porn for this, but then this happened. I also whined about it to anyone who would listen for days and days. I had everything but the smut written for this chapter last week.
> 
> Also, I’ll be adding additional tags as the story progress and things come up. After this chapter, things take a turn into the more dramatic and I’ll be tagging things as appropriate. Please let me know if I’ve missed something you think needs a tag and I’ll be sure to make the correction. 
> 
> Don't worry, nothing dark or disturbing, but you know, canon-typical drama.

Dorian was inexplicably nervous as he led Bull up to his apartment and paused to unlock the door. He was acting like a teenager, worse, as he’d never been so hesitant as a teen. Of course, back in Tevinter under his parents’ roof or that of an allied family, there hadn’t been time for nerves or much of anything other than a moment of release. And when he’d gone out chasing his desires, he was usually too drunk or high to notice.

“As you can see, there’s not much—” the rest of Dorian’s introduction to his space was cut off as Bull pulled him around and pinned him to the recently closed door. His hands cupped either side of Dorian’s face as he dove in for a kiss, his lips soft and insistent and the weight of his body where it pressed against Dorian’s, intense. He was startled, but adaptive and pulled Bull closer as a full body shiver raced through him.

When Bull pulled back, Dorian cleared his throat. “What was that?”

Bull backed off just a bit, putting space between them and dropping his hands. “Was that not where this was going?”

“Oh, no, it was very much where we’re going.” Dorian reached out and curled his fingers into the fabric of Bull’s shirt to keep him from backing off any farther. “I’m just surprised. I wasn’t sure.”

Bull laughed and then leaned down for another kiss, this time deeper, his tongue a welcome intrusion as his hands ran the length of Dorian’s sides. “I wasn’t clear enough? Next time I’ll send you an invitation.” His fingers trailed over Dorian’s chest to his hips, then down to squeeze at Dorian’s cock through the thick fabric of his pants. 

When Bull sank to his knees, Dorian let his head fall back, his eyes closed to everything but the sensation of Bull unbuttoning his pants, sliding down the zip. Bull’s breath was hot against the sensitive flesh of his belly and the murmur of appreciation when he drew Dorian’s cock into the open air made Dorian gasp.

From their place on his hips, Bull's hands traveled to the back of his thighs while Dorian tried to be considerate. They were new to each other, new to the intimacy and he thought it was bad form to shove his cock into Bull's mouth, no matter how tempting it looked. He clenched his hands into tight fists to keep himself still until Bull made the first move. It was only considerate. 

“How are you about heights?”

Thrown, Dorian looked down, past his own flushed erection to meet Bull’s gaze. “What?” He must have misheard.

“Are you afraid of heights?”

“Is now really the time to discuss our phobias? No, I’m not afraid—“ the rest of his words were cut off in a yelp as Bull gripped Dorian’s thighs and stood, sliding Dorian straight up along the wall until he could reach up and touch his own ceiling. 

Bull supported his weight like it was nothing and Dorian let his head fall back against the wall again, overwhelmed at being held in such a complete grip. He had his legs up over Bull’s shoulders, one hand out flat against the wall and the other wrapped around one of Bull’s horns. It was smooth and warm under his fingers and he could hold as tight as he wanted without fear of hurting him. 

There had been other men in the past who took sucking Dorian’s cock as a price to be paid for their own pleasure. They did as they must so that Dorian would return the favor, but clearly held no true interest in the act. With Bull, it was as though there was nowhere he’d rather be than with his face pressed between Dorian’s thighs, breathing in the scent of him, murmuring pleased little phrases Dorian couldn't understand. 

He worked his tongue around the base of Dorian’s cock, laving at his the delicate and over-sensitive skin, his fingers massaging into the muscle of Dorian’s ass with a rhythmic sense of purpose. 

“Someday soon, I want to do this for hours,” Bull said, his voice rumbling through the lower half of Dorian’s body. “But I think right now, I’d like to see you come apart.”

Any words Dorian might have said were lost as Bull took the entirety of his cock into his mouth, and down his throat. Dorian gasped at the dark, wet heat, at the strong pull of Bull's mouth. Bull hummed a little and Dorian had to close his eyes to keep from coming. There was nothing of the hesitation, the sense of duty his previous partners had shown. Bull enjoyed having his mouth on Dorian, if the firm grip on his ass that encouraged him to rock into Bull’s mouth was any indication.

Bull’s attention, the absolute strength of him holding Dorian off the ground and his own months’ long dry spell meant he couldn’t last long. Bull worked at him, his tongue a miraculous thing as it wound around him, teased him. Dorian was dimly aware he was chanting Bull’s name as his whole body seized and he spilled himself into Bull’s waiting mouth. 

The edges of his vision dimmed and he was aware of gliding toward the ground, of being eased back onto his legs and of Bull still there, still pressed against him, holding him firm. “I can honestly say that has never happened before.”

As his racing heart tried to slow, Bull bent down to suck at his pulse point. “The pleasure is all mine.” And he sounded sincere.

The feeling came back to his legs and once Dorian could stand on his own, he pushed at Bull until they started backing toward Dorian’s couch, the half a dozen steps felt like an ocean, a desert to cross until he was able to push Bull down and settle on the floor between his knees. He pulled at the tie to the waist of Bull’s pants. “These are easily the ugliest things I’ve ever seen.”

“I made them myself.” 

Under his hands, Bull's body was heated like a fever. His skin, when Dorian touched it, was an inferno. “It shows. Though I also wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d stolen them from the body of a dead, murderous clown.”

Bull reached out and placed a gentle hand at the back of Dorian’s head. “Isn’t there something better you could be doing with your mouth?”

Dorian grinned up at him, holding the moment before pulling Bull’s cock from his pants and running his tongue along the head. He was huge in Dorian’s hands, a happy, glorious sight. As he worked over the head of Bull's cock, he moved his hand in slow, even strokes along shaft to Bull’s balls which were a delicate weight in Dorian’s palm. Bull let out the most delicious moan.

Bracketed between Bull's legs with his hand a steady pressure on his head, Dorian should have felt trapped. But the pleased sounds, the way Bull's thighs trembled at Dorian's touch when they hadn't wavered for a second under his weight against the wall, those things made Dorian feel free.

“I’m not going to last long,” Bull’s hand on his head was a steady, encouraging presence. “I got most of the way there with my mouth on you.”

The groan that escaped him made Bull’s hand tighten in his hair in just the right way, and he focused on suction, pulling Bull to that place where he had no choice but to tip over, flooding his mouth with the primal, base taste, intense and concentrated. He held Bull in his mouth long after he finished, relishing the fullness and texture.

Eventually, he pulled away, tucked Bull back into his hideous pants and Dorian crawled back up to rest at Bull’s side. The fading light of late afternoon washing them both in a golden glow. He ran his hand over Bull’s arm and chest, up to his neck and then on to frame his face, still relaxed and open. 

Bull found the remote to his TV and handed it over. “Put something on,” he said in a low voice, curling his arm around Dorian’s shoulders so there was no space between them. 

It wasn't about the television. Dorian didn’t care, nor, he suspected did Bull. But it was nice to have a little background noise and an excuse to stay so close. He flipped to the public broadcast station where they showed cooking shows on the weekends and together they learned how to make the perfect omelet and the best Bloody Mary mix. Dorian thought they both looked gross, but then southerners had strange ideas about what constituted breakfast.

He was relaxed and his eyes were heavy. Dorian didn’t sleep, exactly, but he dozed in the warm hold and steady rhythm of Bull’s heartbeat. 

When the last of the cooking shows ended and the programing switched over to news, Bull stood with a deep groan and stretched, his fingers nearly brushing the ceiling. Dorian climbed up with him, suddenly uncertain about their next step. He didn’t know what it was about Bull that made him so uncertain about how he felt, he stood, adjusting his clothes and looking everywhere but at Bull’s face.

“Thanks for inviting me out today.” Bull leaned in and caught the edge of his chin, bringing his face up for a deep, lingering kiss. It shouldn’t have been such a turn on to catch the faintest hint of the taste of himself still lingering in Bull’s mouth, but the taste raced through him like a stray bolt of lightening magic. Bull pulled back with a warm chuckle. “We should do this again.”

Dorian walked him to the door and was proud that he didn’t blurt out and ask what Bull was doing the next day. Instead he leaned up for one last kiss, serious and deep. “Call me,” he said and let Bull leave his apartment, though what he really wanted was to drag the man back to his bed and never let him go. 

#

It didn’t really occur to Dorian until the next day when he was on the phone with Felix that he’d gone on a date and had sex with someone he worked with. Someone who was friendly with everyone and had close relationships with many people on campus. Bull had, historically, not been shy about sharing his sexual exploits. 

“You’re worried he might say something?”

Dorian hadn't thought that far ahead. “Well, I wasn’t until now.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Felix sounded good again, bright, like he had before he got sick. It was almost enough for Dorian not to be annoyed with him.

“You’re not very comforting, you know.” He hand his free hand through his hair and tried not to think about the repercussions if Bull chose to tell stories. “What do I do?”

“Call him and ask him to be discrete. If that’s what you want.”

Dorian stopped in his pacing. “What do you mean, ‘if that’s what I want’, of course that’s what I want. It’s no one’s business what I do outside of work.” The thought of people knowing, of being on display was enough to take the strength out of his legs and he collapsed on his couch. "Why is this so hard?"

"Because you like him." Felix had no right to sound so patient and amused at the same time.

"Shut up."

“Are you ashamed of him?” Felix’s voice was gentle and Dorian no longer wanted to have anything to do with the conversation.

“No, of course not. Felix, I don’t want to discuss this anymore. Tell me about the party.” Alexius was planning a huge event for Felix’s birthday and the planning was enough to drive the entire household into madness.

But Felix, of course, couldn’t let anything go. His voice was strong, but his tone was careful as he picked through his next words. “Are you ashamed of you?”

Dorian squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward until his chest rested against his knees. “No,” he said in a whisper.

“That might be more convincing if you could say it at a regular volume.” He paused and Dorian could imagine him leaning forward, his face earnest and caring. “You deserve to be happy. There is nothing wrong with you.” 

But there was the echo of a bruise to his kidney when he made a pass at the wrong man, there was blood in his mouth and painted on his chest, and there was his father’s voice, so cold. _You are no son of mine._ Dorian sat up fast enough that his head spun, but he closed his eyes against the dizziness and drew in a deep breath. “Of course not.” Years of practice bled all of the turmoil from his voice until there was only practiced arrogance. “There isn’t a more perfect specimen of human accomplishment.” 

“Dorian.”

“Tell me about the party.” It was either that or he would ask how Felix was feeling and that was an even more treacherous road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, you guys. When I started writing this, I thought I might have to deal with a few make out sessions at the most, I never intended to write porn for this story. I am literally 8000 words past this chapter and only my self imposed looming deadline made me finish this. I am so sorry. I imagine there will be edits in the future that will make this sexy instead of just a mess :/
> 
> We return to the type of writing I'm good at tomorrow!


	9. You Just Get Used to Living in Fear

Dorian arrived early to work, not because he was afraid of what might happen if he saw Bull in the parking lot or walking into the building, but because he had work to do. He buried himself in his office under a mountain of paperwork and reports. The deadline for his first grant proposal was a little over a week away and he wanted a draft finished well before the deadline. It wasn’t the lingering anxiety of Felix’s concern or the fact that Bull hadn’t called him the rest of the weekend. It wasn’t that at all.

Midmorning, right around the time for his daily update, there was a knock on his closed door and Dorian looked at the smooth wood, steeling himself. He cleared his throat and called for the person to enter.

Instead of Bull, Krem ambled into the room and took a seat, Bull’s seat, across from Dorian. “The chief’s in a meeting with the president, has been since first thing this morning. He’s sorry he can’t be here, but he wanted to make sure you got your update.”

Dorian tried not to feel uneasy, tried not to find fault in the explanation. When the president called, staff answered.

Krem ran through their plans for the day, the progress they’d made so far and then handed a sheet of paper over to Dorian. “We’ve got some big equipment coming in and we’re going to need to close the library for a few days, three at the most to get everything done. We can schedule any one of those dates, so pick which one is best for you and we’ll make it work.”

The second week of term, four weeks in, or close to midterms. None of them were good options. Keeping the library open was the best of all possible worlds, but given a choice? “This one,” he circled the date four weeks into the start of term. “I can send out notices to students and have instructors remind them that the library will be unavailable during those days.”

Krem rose to leave and then paused at the door, a sly smile on his face. “Nice job, by the way.”

“I’m sorry?” Dorian asked. He tried to ignore the icy feeling in his chest as it spread out along his arms and down to his fingers. Tried to convince himself Krem didn’t mean what Dorian thought he meant. 

“You and the chief. Didn’t think you were really his type.”

Dorian kept his face perfectly calm and raised an arrogant eyebrow, when what he wanted to do was shove Krem out of the room and never speak to him again. Are you ashamed of you? “And what type might that be.”

Krem wiggled his fingers at him. “Mages. He’s not real fond of magic all out in the open.”

Bull never said, though Dorian hadn’t used his magic when they were together. He’d gotten into the habit of keeping it to himself in the south to avoid any untoward reactions. “Yes, well, I’m a man of many talents.”

Krem looked him over, not flirting exactly, but appraising. “I bet.” He tapped the paper against the door frame. “I’ll make sure the chief gets this.”

Dorian waited until the door was firmly closed before he leaned forward to rest his head on his desk. It was barely past ten in the morning and he already wanted to go home.

#

“So,” the president slipped into his office and closed the door behind her a little after noon. “You and Bull, huh?”

Dorian could feel the flush in his face and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He managed not to groan or cover his face with his hands and he was pathetic enough to count that as a win. “We work together, yes.”

She reached across the desk and picked up his stapler, playing with the hinge action. “Don’t be coy. You had a date this weekend. Bull told me all about it. It’s sweet, I don’t think he’s been on a date since he started working here.”

His disbelief must have shown on his face because Evelyn continued.

“I’m not saying he hasn’t found,” she cleared her throat delicately. “Partners. But I can’t think of any that went out with him.” She smiled and leaned over to pat his arm. “It’s sweet.”

Had it been sweet, Bull would have kept his mouth shut. Didn’t he understand Dorian had to work with these people? He already had to work harder because he was from Tevinter. Gossip attached to his name would only make things worse. Evelyn was his boss, he didn’t want to have to justify his personal life to her. He stared at her, unable to form the words to shift the conversation until she seemed to catch on and moved the conversation herself. They discussed Dorian’s plans for the semester, his grant proposal and how he felt he was fitting in at Skyhold. Half an hour later, she seemed to have the answers she wanted and she was gone just as suddenly as she appeared. 

Dorian stood to stretch his legs and grab some water from the cooler in the break room. He passed one of Bull’s men on the way, Rocky? He got a wide grin and a thumbs up in the hallway, but Dorian hurried off before the man could stop him to talk. The break room was empty and he closed the door, resting his head against the dark wood, his head spinning and his breathing high.

He couldn’t do this.

Fiona was at the circulation desk as he paused on his way out. “I’m not feeling well. If anyone needs me, tell them I’ll be with them first thing in the morning.” He walked off to her question of concern, but Dorian couldn’t stay in the building a moment longer. A ten minute walk and he would be home where he could shut out the day and pretend it never happened.

In the privacy of his apartment, Dorian striped out of his suit and then into his most comfortable, most decadent sleep clothes until he was wrapped in silk. He kept it packed away with a small bag of lavender that permeated the fabric, sending delicate swirls scent as he moved. He turned on the television, the volume low to create the murmur of company, and stretched out on his couch to contemplate the ceiling. His limbs felt heavy, a match to his mind. 

Regret was a powerful thing. Worse still when he could not regret the day he spent with Bull, only the consequences of the day. How much easier would it have been if there was something in the way Bull treated him while they were together that could twist the memory. But it had been a wonderful day and he’d been looking forward to it happening again. 

Until it became clear that Dorian was just another story to pass through the staff. He could only be thankful that there were no pictures like poor Maryden. Foolish of him, really, to expect something different.

His phone rang, twice from Bull during the day. He left a message the first time, that Dorian refused to listen to, but didn’t bother on his second try. In the evening, Felix called and Dorian let that go through to voicemail as well. He didn’t want to speak to anyone, couldn’t find the energy to open his mouth and make sounds. It was after ten when it rang again. He ignored it like the others.

It rang again and Dorian bunched his hand into a fist, then grabbed the phone from the floor. “I don’t want to talk.” But he kept the phone to his ear, hoping for some kind of explanation.

Instead, he heard a faint gasp. “Dorian?” his father asked.

Dorian disconnected the call and threw his phone across the room, pleased as the glass cracked and it fell to the floor with a thump. He stood, set the remains alight in a swift, controlled blaze, then stomped off to the bedroom to collapse in his bed. The sound of his father’s voice, soft and just a little hopeful, haunted him and it was hours before he was able to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the angst, this was where there was a natural break in the narrative. A little angst is good for you, though, right?
> 
> Also, the response to this fic over the past couple of days has been, frankly, astounding. Thank you so much to everyone who has read, or kudo'd or commented. It means so much. Some of you have even followed me over on my tumblr which means I've gotten a wonderful influx of DA on my dash! 
> 
> I've enjoyed the hell out of writing this and it's awesome that I'm not the only one having a good time. We're about halfway through the plot now, with maybe a one-shot side story of something that doesn't fit into the main storyline.


	10. You Can’t Even Picture Your Future

With his phone broken, Dorian had no alarm and overslept. He swore on waking, the light from his closed curtains brighter than it should be as he realized his mistake. There was no time for breakfast, not even coffee as he rushed through his morning routine, grabbed his keys and ran out the door. The library was already open, Fiona at the circulation desk when he hurried in. She stood as he entered and followed him back to his office. 

“You don’t look well. We can cover anything that needs help if you want to go back home.” She hovered in his doorway as he settled behind his desk and tried to orient himself to the work of the day. 

“I’ll be fine.” He worked out a smile, but could tell from her pinched expression that he missed the mark. “Did I miss anything yesterday?”

Fiona handed over a pile of mail. “The Iron Bull was looking for you, but I imagine he’ll be by this morning for his daily update.” 

Dorian searched her tone and her face for a hint of judgement or knowing. He found none. “Thank you. I’ll be working on the grant proposal most of the day, but feel free to interrupt me if you need me.” He asked her to leave his door open as he didn’t think he could stand staying at work with the small walls closing in on him.

The paperwork wasn’t enough to distract him from his thoughts. Would Bull stop by? Would there be another parade of people coming by to taunt him for daring to want something for himself? 

How had Halward found his number? Their last conversation, over a different phone had been very clear. Ensconced in Alexius’ summer home with Felix for company, Dorian tried to reconcile the man he knew, who raised him and cheered for his accomplishments with the man who tried to change him. Dorian couldn’t understand what his father wanted of him now, when there’d been no word for three years.

He spent more time staring out his window than working. And the open door meant that, when Bull stopped by, he couldn’t pretend not to be there.

“Hey, big guy. I missed you yesterday.” He studied Dorian’s face as he took a seat. “You’re still looking a little rough. Need anything?” His tone was casually concerned.

Dorian bit his tongue until the urge to yell at Bull passed. “No, thank you. You have an update for me?” He was proud of how neutral he sounded. His mother would have been so proud of him.

Bull hesitated for a moment before launching into details of the work on the roof and what Dorian could expect in the coming days. He finished but didn’t get up. “I tried to call you yesterday.”

“I broke my phone.” Perhaps if he kept his answers to a minimum number of words it wouldn’t hurt so much to speak. Perhaps Bull would catch a hint.

“You need a ride to pick out a replacement?”

“No, thank you.”

Bull leaned forward, his mouth turned down in a frown. “What’s going on, Dorian? Are you all right?”

For a moment, Dorian fantasized about pushing Bull out of his office with his magic. The urge passed, but the anger stayed. “I’m fine. I have work to do.”

“You’re upset.” Dorian fought down the urge to clap for Bull and his insight. “Is it because I didn’t call you over the weekend? A pipe burst in the basement of science building. I spent the day and most of the night up to my nipples in water.” He leaned forward. “I thought I’d get to tell you about it yesterday, but you were gone before I got a chance.”

His traitorous heart eased a bit at the explanation, but he couldn’t shake the memory of the president’s visit or the comments from Bull’s people. “I’m upset because I thought,” he stopped. His expectations weren’t Bull’s fault, as angry as he was, he knew that much. “I don’t appreciate being reduced to a bit of gossip.”

Bull got up and walked to the door and Dorian was surprised how much it stung for him to walk away. Instead of leaving, though, Bull closed the door and came back to sit in his seat. “I think I missed something.”

“You missed something?” Dorian would have stood to pace if he wasn’t so tired. “I came to work yesterday after an enjoyable day with you only to find you’d already spread word of our tryst across half the campus.”

Bull sat back, unimpressed. “Half the campus.”

Dorian held up his hand and counted down on his fingers. “Krem, the president, the one with the,” he motioned to his face. “All before noon. I didn’t stay longer to find out who else.”

“They’re my friends,” Bull said slowly. “I came to work and told my friends, my close friends, about the day I had with you. I didn’t say anything out sex. Instead, I told them I had a good time with you and I was looking forward to doing it again. Soon.”

Dorian collapsed back into his chair, sliding down just a little, his hand over his eyes. “Maker.” He heard Bull get up, but he was too mortified by his own ridiculousness to move or acknowledge his presence. 

“Hey.” Bull drew his hand from his face. “You got yourself all worked up, huh?”

“It’s not just you.” The sound of his own name in his father’s voice echoed in his thoughts. “And I broke my phone.” He’d have to get a new one. How reckless of him to break his phone in a fit of anger, he didn't have so many discretionary funds to do that sort of thing, anymore. And he'd have to call Felix; offer an apology. He hoped everything was all right. He’d never ignored at call from Felix before. What if he needed Dorian and he’d been too stubborn and childish to answer. 

“We can go after work and get you a replacement.” He leaned down and kissed Dorian’s temple. “It’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

He nodded, leaning against Bull for a moment. He was tired, but there was still so much to do. “You don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I did. I’ll come by at the end of the day. Do you need anything in the meantime?”

“Your forgiveness?” The words stuck in his throat, but he’d been in the wrong. Read the situation all wrong.

Bull kissed him again. “Nothing to forgive.”

By the time the day ended and he’d picked out a new phone with Bull’s silent presence, Dorian was exhausted. Not enough sleep, too much emotional turmoil. He wanted to crawl into bed and have Bull curl around him until there was nothing but sleep. But they’d only just recovered from Dorian’s temper and before that, they’d only had the one day, or date, or whatever. He let Bull take him home, let him walk him up to his door and kiss him against the door, careless of who might be peering out of peepholes. He let him unlock the door and guide Dorian to his bed. He heard the rumble of Bull’s voice, but couldn’t focus enough to make out the distinct words. 

He woke the next morning to the generic siren of the default alarm on his new phone and the lingering impression of Bull’s care as he moved through the apartment to find his clothes from the previous day stored in his laundry basket, his living room tided—including the shattered mess of his last phone, and a brown paper bag in his refrigerator packed with lunch for the day. Dorian was pretty sure he didn’t own any brown paper bags.

Though he would see him in a few hours, Dorian called Bull on his walk to campus. “You don’t have to take care of me.” The words were harsh, but his tone was mild. He was oddly touched by all that Bull had done, even if he felt like it was unnecessary.

“Is that ‘Vint for ‘thank you’? Should I wait for Krem to translate?”

Dorian sighed into the phone, exasperated and audible, though he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “I’m terrible at accepting gifts. So, thank you. But it’s not necessary.”

“What if taking care of you is what I want?”

A shiver ran through Dorian at the words and he instantly felt foolish at how warm those words made him. He didn’t need someone to take care of him. He was an adult. “I don’t want that.” 

Bull hummed. “But maybe you need it?”

Bull’s voice, quiet, concerned, his non-judgmental tone took the legs out of Dorian’s argument. He had to stop in his walk, find his way over to a bench to drop down. It was tempting. How he wanted to hand over everything to someone else and say, ‘here, fix this’. 

But there was no guarantee that Bull would stay, that he wouldn’t find someone more agreeable to spend his time with, that Dorian wouldn’t drive him off with his sharp words and complete lack of understanding about how relationships worked. “Not right now.”

“That’s fair.” Bull didn’t push. “You let me know if you change your mind. I like taking care of pretty things.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles.” He said even as he pressed the phone closer to his ear. There was something thrilling about starting the day with a compliment to his fine features. “You know, I could probably best you in a fight.” Sure Bull was huge and his muscle mass alone was intimidating, but Dorian had magic on his side.

“Who said anything about a fight? Sometimes we all need someone to take care of the little things while we work through the big stuff. And you’re going to be late if you don’t get up off that bench.”

Dorian looked up and saw the shadow of Bull standing on the roof of the library. He raised his hand. “I’ll see you later,” he said and ended the call. 

He sat for just another moment, letting the weak sun warm his face before he pushed up off the bench and finished the short walk to the library. His hope for a quiet day died when he checked his email and found an invitation to a mandatory meeting from public safety for the coming term. ‘Required to attend’ was pretty clear language. 

Just after ten, he squeezed into a seat in the small auditorium beside Fiona. Krem sat on his other side, Lace next to him. The small room was mostly full, though Dorian noticed Bull’s absence and wondered what he’d done to be able to miss out on the meeting. 

The lights dimmed and he head of campus security, Captain Cullen Rutherfod, walked up to the podium on the stage and thanked them for coming. 

“Like we had a choice,” Krem muttered before pulling out a sheet of paper and so he could pass notes to Lace. “Probably the same presentation as last year.”

Cullen motored through a PowerPoint on the signs of behavior they should be aware of, who on staff was required to report suspicious or dangerous activity and who to call in case of emergency. “We’ve added a few new officers to our staff this year so we won’t be spread so thin. You should see one of my people come through your buildings at least once a day to check on you and ask if you need anything or have any problems. This is not a courtesy call. If you have any issues, please let my people know. If a student brings an issue or a problem to you, gather your information only after you let them know you’re required to share that information, then get in contact with me. We’ve historically been a safe campus, and an open campus, but there are going to be a lot more kids here this year than we’ve had and it’s easy for things to get out of hand.” He flipped to his last slide, the seal of the College and motioned for someone in the back to bring up the lights. “Any questions?”

As expected, there was a round of almost hysterical hypotheticals, situations that would never happen, and the answer was always the same: report it. 

Someone in the back asked about safety training and Cullen nodded to one of his officers who began passing out pamphlets. “I’ll be teaching self-defense classes again this year, twice a week.”

Krem leaned over. “It’s a very popular class.”

Dorian looked over the wheat-farm boy look. “I bet.”

“I’d like all the department heads to come to the first class, just so you can have some basic tips to keep you and your people safe.”

Dorian laughed at the thought of his colleges in their work clothes going through the motions of self defense. “Suckers.”

Krem jabbed his arm. “Uh, I hate to break it to you, but _you’re_ a department head.”

The bright blue pamphlet landed in his hands and Dorian swore. 

“Look on the bright side, the chief’ll have to be there, too. Maybe you can spar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow are these guys bad at relationships. Bull only looks better because he's with Dorian. Have hope, though, they'll get there. They're both too stubborn to let this go. 
> 
> Up next: Self-defense class. What could possibly go wrong?


	11. They Were Weak, Too Prone to Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, please be aware of the updated tags. If you have concerns or questions, I'm always happy to give you a rundown of a chapter before you read it.

“This is ridiculous.” Dorian crossed his arms over his chest. He was in his sock feet, his shoes deemed too damaging to the mats on the floor of the gym. With nearly two dozen other department heads, trying not to look uncomfortable with physical exercise in their work clothes. If there was anything as unintimidating as business and business casual, Dorian couldn’t bring it to mind. For half an hour he’d been watching Cullen put various department heads through their paces.

They were children’s games.

Bull slapped his back, an affectionate gesture that was also hard enough to send him a few steps forward. “Come on, don’t be mad because you’re learning something in your socks.” Cullen had used Bull several times as a demonstration, showing how it was possible for a smaller person to defend against a larger opponent. Bull had gamely assisted, though Dorian was sure that a fair match between them would have been much more interesting.

“The state of my feet has nothing to do with my displeasure. These are the sorts of techniques taught to children.” The only son of House Pavus, Dorian had been enrolled in self-defense classes at a young age. Barely old enough to walk on his own and he knew how to kick at a knee and call for help. By six, he’d foiled two separate kidnapping attempts before his guards could get to him. 

Word spread of his training and the next attempt, when he was eight was a success. They’d brought a contingent of men and some drug that made Dorian’s memory of the first few days hazy, beyond repeated bouts of vomiting. By the time the drugs cleared his system, Dorian overheard enough to understand that his father was negotiating the terms of his return, but not before the men took some of his blood. Some to send to Halward as proof, some to keep for their own magic. 

He spent weeks in a private hospital room once Halward finally capitulated to their demands. His parents visited every day, as was required by social norms, his mother carrying a soft, stuffed toy, the kind purchased at the hospital gift shop. His father spent the visits facing out the window, his hands clenched in fists.

When he was well enough to come home, Dorian’s training intensified so he would never again place his father in that position.

“I’ll take you to dinner if you last the rest of the session without calling Cullen a fool.” Bull’s smooth words cut through Dorian’s memories. “He’s a decent guy once you get past the part where he doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

“Shame.” Handsome wasn’t worth much without a personality to accompany it. Tevinter was full of such empty, humorless faces. “Though I suppose some people like the closed off, scowly type.” He sighed. “All right, it’s a deal.” 

The session ended quickly enough. Cullen showed a few more basic moves and spent a good portion of the session reassuring everyone that campus security was a phone call away. A few members of the staff seemed to have a good handle on the moves. The Provost, Cassandra, looked like she could flip Cullen onto the floor mat without much effort, but most everyone else looked like they should be wearing whistles around their necks in case of trouble. 

As he was putting his shoes back on, Bull said, “Wait for me. I have to run something by Cullen then we can get out of here. Think about where you want to go.” The gym cleared of staff and public safety officers until only Bull, Cullen and Dorian remained. 

“You didn’t seem impressed with the class, messere Pavus.”

Dorian shrugged and wondered if Bull’s terms extended beyond the scope of the class. “It’s a bit remedial and most of your moves depend on the good will of your opponent.”

Cullen shifted his stance, the way a soldier would stand. “Astute observation. But this is a class aimed at people who’ve never had to think about their own safety. I want them to see they can rely on their bodies to protect them, instead of thinking of them as a vulnerability.”

“How sad, to only have the body as means of defense.” Dorian held up his hand, a ball of fire tucked in his palm.

Instead of surprise, Cullen grinned at him, though there was an edge of unease at he stared at Dorian’s flame. “But what will you do if that ability is cut from you.”

A moment later, the flame died as Dorian’s connection to his magic vanished. He stumbled back and looked down at his hand, as if his hand was responsible for the change.

“Cullen.” Bull’s warning rumble barely penetrated Dorian’s ears.

He was too busy searching for his magic, but it was gone. “What?” He looked up and took another step back at the look on Cullen’s face so much like—

_He was in his father’s study, his magic barred, his father standing over him. “Always testing my limits. You’ve done this, Dorian. You’ve pushed me this far.” He laid his hand on Dorian’s forehead, almost gentle. Dorian couldn’t remember the last time Halward touched him._

_In the corner, one of their servants was on the floor, kneeing in a pool of his own blood. Dorian couldn’t touch his magic. He tried to get away, but his father put a barrier around him, pushed him to the ground. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t move. His father painted Dorian’s chest with the servant’s blood, cut lines along Dorian’s arms to mingle with the magic. “Don’t worry. It won’t scar.”_

_Dorian fought. He fought until he thought his heart would give from the strain._

“Dorian.”

_Whatever his father had given him wasn’t strong enough. He could feel the edges of his magic. He just needed to catch the lip of the well._

“Dorian!”

He came back to himself, his back against Bull’s chest, as Bull fought to keep him upright. One arm was wrapped around Dorian’s waist, the other across his chest, holding him back away from Cullen. His body was sore from where he’d struggled, but he could feel his magic again and he drew on it, drowning himself in it, just to feel it filling him. He could have leveled the building with the power he had in him. He could have stopped Cullen’s heart, crushed him into the bright blue mats. He should have.

“Dorian.” Softer this time. “Do you know where you are?”

He let the power drain from him and sagged against Bull’s hold. “Does this mean I forfeit on dinner?” His voice was cracked and hoarse. He wondered if he’d been shouting. He dragged his head up. “What was that?” he asked Cullen, who was standing back several feet, with his hands raised and a look of utter horror on his face. 

“Dorian, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t even think it would work anymore.” He dropped his hands. “Before I came to work at Skyhold I was a Templar.”

“Ah,” not the toothless version used as foot soldiers in the Imperium, but the kind that could put a mage on the ground. The kind that oversaw the Circles in a manner that made Dorian, who’d spend his entire life reveling in his freedom of magic and finding joy in his abilities, feel sick for the plight of the southern mages.

“I had thought to leave that behind when I came here.” He dropped his eyes. “I have no right to ask your forgiveness, but know that—“

Dorian waved his hand, in no mood for a long, self-flagellating speech. “I think you proved your point well. Perhaps there are things I need to work on, for my own safety.” When he thought he was able, he stepped out of Bull’s protective hold, pleased that his legs held. “Would you be available for sessions outside your regular self-defense classes? I’d rather not make a spectacle of myself.”

Cullen stuttered through another apology, shifting from leg to leg, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Then they made an agreement to meet once a week to work on Dorian’s reaction to having his magic tamped. They left Cullen standing in the center of the gym looking a little lost, but Dorian had no energy left for is crisis.

Outside, the evening air was cold but it felt wonderful against his overheated face and arms. Bull guided him toward the parking lot and unlocked the door to his truck, hovering until Dorian heaved himself into the passenger seat. He came around to the driver’s side, but didn’t start the truck.

He seemed hesitant to start speaking, but Dorian waited him out. “When Cullen cut you off from your magic, you fought me like your life depended on it. If I hadn’t been there to hold you back, I think you would have tried to kill Cullen, even though you didn’t know where you were.” Dorian shifted in his seat, rolled his shoulders that were already sore from the strain of fighting against Bull’s hold. “I’ve seen that switch in people before. One minute you’re talking about farming and the next you’re knee deep in something awful that happened twenty years ago. You don’t have to talk about this right now, but you should talk about it. Cause that?” He held Dorian’s gaze with his eye, calm and serious. “That’s not the kind of thing that’s going to go away on its own. So,” he turned on the bench seat, his good eye pinned on Dorian. “what do you want to eat?”

Dorian was wrung out and he didn’t feel much like eating. The taste of blood still lingered in his mouth and it would probably be days before it cleared. The thought of trying to add food on top of it was enough to turn his stomach. “I’m not really hungry.”

“I’ll take you home?”

With a nod, Dorian secured himself and then leaned his head against the window. “What you must think of me.”

Bull reached across the space and rested his hand on the back of Dorian’s neck. “We’ve all got our own shit. And I figured, ‘Vint so far from home, must be running from something. You get this hunted look, sometimes, when you think no one is watching. Doesn’t mean I think less, or that you’re too much to handle.”

At his apartment, he reached over and turned off the truck. “Come up with me.”

They spent a quiet night tucked in the couch watching an old series in black and white. Bull called in an order for food, some kind of spicy noodles that smelled tempting enough that Dorian ate a few bites before leaving the rest to Bull. He laughed at Bull’s jokes and let him massage the stiffness out of his arms and shoulders. He kissed him at the door when it grew late, and after Dorian closed the door behind Bull, he went to his bedroom and called Felix.

It was late. He didn’t think he cared. The evening with Bull put a buffer between Dorian and his memories. If he didn’t get them out now, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to.

Felix answered on the fourth ring. His voice was dry and sleepy. “Dorian. Are you all right?”

The words stuck in his throat and he swallowed. Swallowed again against the taste of blood.

“Dorian. I swear if this is a butt dial—“

“I lied.”

“Are you drunk?”

Dorian shook his head, though Felix couldn’t see him. “When I came to you after I found out what Halward meant to do. I lied.” He closed his eyes. He could feel the blood running down his arms, the sting of the cuts as he ran to his room and grabbed his coat and his wallet. He ran from the house, his bare feet scraped on the gravel of the drive. Beyond the estate, he stopped at the slow moving pond and dunked himself below the water to wash away the blood. He drew his coat over his wet clothes and called for a taxi.

Outside the city limits, Dorian took his first free breath. One after another, each expanding the bounds of his chest until he could feel the ache in his ribs. The driver was silent and Dorian paid him in cash when he was delivered to the hotel miles and miles from his home. Standing under the bright, cheerful lights of the entryway, Dorian shook out his limbs and adopted the loose gait of the pampered as he ambled into inside and up to the front desk. 

He charmed the staff with his act of drunkenness, tales of night of revelry gone far enough to lose his shoes and end up in a fountain. He paid for a room, bought ill-fitting dress clothes and shoes from the all-night shop in the vestibule. In his room, he stripped off his clothes, water and bloodstained. The sleeves of his coat stuck to his arms where scabs were forming over the wounds. He threw everything in the trash and sat in the shower until he stopped shaking.

The hotel was his home for over a week. He stayed until cuts on his arms healed, until there was no sign of a mark or scar, until his money was almost gone. Then he called Felix and told him he was coming for a visit. It was so much easier to tell Felix he found out and left, as though he’d come across a missive from his father to a friend describing his plans to use blood magic on his son rather than living through the experience. Easier not to think of it at all. 

“I lied. I didn’t just find out. There was, he caught me unawares.” He told the story in halting, half whispered words. It was easier not to have to see Felix’s face, imagine he was telling the story to the Fade where demons didn’t care about his short, insignificant life. When he was finished, Felix let him breathe down the line, unable to speak anymore until sleep claimed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Dorian's voice actor's delivery of the line, "I found out, I left." The stark, kind of emotionless delivery seemed to cover a multitude of sins and that was something I've been looking forward to exploring. It was, harsher, than I expected.
> 
> I feel like I'm a little harsh with Cullen in this chapter, but it's really Dorian's POV and it's a brief introduction. We'll see a more rounded view of him in coming chapters.
> 
> And as a last note on this section, as I was thinking about how to shift Thedas into a modern age, one of the things I kept running up against is the issue of slavery in Tevinter. Presuming it's a modern nation, and powerful the way it is in the DA games, I figured that they transitioned out of a slave based society, but kept a heavy servant based and class based society.


	12. Their Needs too Deep, Their Skin too Thin

There was a text from Felix waiting on his phone in the morning. _Let me know you’re okay._

He felt clearer in the daylight. And with a new morning, regret settled in his chest. _I apologize for the melodrama._

Felix’s response was immediate. _Don’t be an ass._ A moment later. _You don’t have to answer._

His phone rang and Dorian considered letting it run to voicemail, but he accepted the call. “It must be early there.”

“It’s all right. I wasn’t sleeping.”

Dorian frowned. Felix needed rest, needed not to wear himself out dealing with Dorian’s problems. 

“I can feel your guilt from here. There’s no need. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I told you that you were being ridiculous. I said speculation on your father’s part wasn’t the same as action. All the while you were dealing with this. I should have listened better.”

Though there was no one to see him, he still covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow, blocking out the light in his bedroom. “I can’t fault you for thinking as I wanted.”

“What he did, Dorian. It’s not just immoral. It’s illegal. You know the laws have changed.”

The image of his father in a prison uniform, lumped in with common criminals was enough to choke out a laugh. “He’d hate prison.”

“He should have thought of that before.”

“There’s no point. No one would believe me. His servants are entirely loyal and any evidence is long gone.” And if he was ever to return to Tevinter, it wouldn’t be for a trial of all things.

“What about your mother?”

The taste was back and he swallowed hard, even as he knew it wasn’t real. “She was in the room, Felix.” On hand in case, what? Someone needed to carry their brain-dead son?”

“I don’t know what to do, then.” Felix sounded so lost, he wished there was no distance between them. He could have used the weight of Felix’s hand on his shoulder. 

“I don’t need you to fix anything, I didn’t tell you because I need help. Well, not that kind of help.” He described the episode with Cullen. “Bull said it could happen again and I don’t want.” He drew a breath. “I can’t live knowing he has that power over me, to make me lose myself three years later.” 

“Give me the day, let me see what I can find for you. Please,” he said when Dorian hesitated. “Please, let me do this. I’ve been a terrible friend.”

“You could never be that.” He pushed up from the bed. “I have to get ready for work. You’ll call tonight?”

Felix promised to have something by the end of the day and Dorian took his promise like a cloak, wrapped it around him as he worked to start his day. He lingered too long in the shower, trying to get the hot water to ease some of the ache from his body, and had to rush to the library. 

Midmorning, Bull came by and greeted him with a kiss. A first. Dorian leaned in to Bull, the fire of his touch burning away all other thoughts. If not for his large window that looked out on the courtyard facing the cafeteria, Dorian would have cleared his desk and pulled Bull into a more interesting kind of morning. As it was, the look Bull gave him when they parted made him almost not care about the window.

“How are you feeling, this morning?”

“Sore. I can only wish it was for a better reason.”

His laugh was soft, but heartfelt. “We’ll get there.” He shifted and went on to talk Dorian through their progress on the roof. Usually when he finished his update, Bull would head out for the morning, but he stayed in his chair. He seemed to be working up to something when he set a pile of papers on Dorian’s desk. “I have some invoices to look through for materials. Do you mind if I take a corner of your desk?”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have an office?”

“This one’s got a better view.” He pointed to the window, but kept his eyes on Dorian.

Dorian hummed, but couldn’t stop the grin that tipped the corner of his mouth. “Carry on then, but I hope you don’t need a stapler, mine seems to have wandered off.”

As Bull began sorting through his papers, he glanced up. “Was the president in here, by any chance?”

“She was.” He shifted at the remembered embarrassment of her visit, of feeling exposed. But the visit hadn’t been a harbinger of coming ridicule, but was instead friendly attention. The kind of conversation that passed between friends without judgment. Dorian thought he could be forgiven for his misunderstanding.

“Yeah, watch out for her around your stuff. She’s a great president, she’s done a lot of good things for Skyhold, but the woman would take your desk if it wasn’t so heavy. I’ve seen her supply closet and it is stocked with stolen goods from all over campus. I’m pretty sure she has silverware from the cafeteria in there.”

“Fascinating.” He looked at his desk and wondered if there was anything else she’d taken that he hadn’t noticed yet. “Has anyone called her out on her thievery?”

Bull shrugged. “She’s the president, what are you going to do?”

They worked in silence for a few hours and Dorian was surprised at how easy it was to spend time with Bull. He already knew they did well outside of work, but they complimented each other in the workplace as well. Bull stayed out of his way when he took phone calls and when Krem dropped into run by measurement, Dorian kept to his work. It was nice. Better than nice. 

When afternoon rolled in, Bull stood and Dorian had to fight down his disappointment. The man obviously couldn’t spend his whole day lounging in Dorian’s office. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Bull stretched, the muscles of his chest strained against his shirt and Dorian kind of wanted to peel him out of it. “You have plans for lunch?”

He didn’t and followed Bull to the cafeteria. They took a table in the middle of the room and ended up hosting a revolving spectrum of familiar faces. The president stopped by their table for a few minutes, and stole food off of both their plates before Josie joined her and the two of them went off to a table of their own near the far window. He envied their easy affection, heads bent close, hands touching.

“You should have been here for the wedding.” Cullen said, watching them a little wistfully as they shared a private joke one afternoon. “It was pouring rain, half the wedding party got stuck behind an accident and were over an hour late. The florist only delivered half the flowers, but I’ve never seen two people so happy. I think the building could have burned down around them and they wouldn’t have cared.”

“Care to join us?” Dorian asked, a little hesitant, but Cullen seemed to feel the same if the hand on the back of his neck was anything to go by.

“I wouldn’t be interrupting?”

Bull waved him to a seat and they spent an awkward minute chewing in silence.

“I wanted to apologize, again. There are forms you can fill out, if you’d like to file an official complaint. You’d be well within your rights. I’ve already spoken to the president and Vivienne in HR to put a censure in my file about the abuse of my position and power.”

Dorian rolled his eyes and pointed at Cullen’s plate with his fork. “Eat your chicken, Captain. No one’s making a big deal about this but you.” 

“But—“

“I have been in the hands of men who abused their position and power.” If he didn’t think about it too hard, he could imagine he was talking about the series of kidnapping attempts in his youth and not the hands of his father. “Your little display last evening was thoughtless, not cruel. Finish your meal before the president steals it. If anyone around here should be censured it’s her for taking my stapler.”

Cullen let out a surprised laugh and turned his attention to his lunch. He ate with the quick, precise movements of a man who knew he could be interrupted at any time. While Dorian and Bull ate at a leisurely pace, pausing to comment and converse, Cullen steamrolled his food. And for good reason as his walkie chirped and he was called away just as he finished.

After Cullen made his exit, Krem dropped in and shortly after, Lace found the way to their table. The two flirted awkwardly. It was tragic and unsubtle. “How do you stand it?” Dorian said as he leaned in toward Bull, not caring if his voice carried. They needed all the help they could get.

“Can’t make people see what they don’t want to see.”

“Can’t I just tell them? I could tell them.” Lace laughed at something Krem said. He leaned forward, as if to catch her hand just as she raised it to cover her mouth. “It’s painful.”

Bull drained his glass. “Let them be. They’ll get there in their own time.”

Eventually, the demands of the job meant that Dorian had to return to his office and Bull to supervising the work on the roof. They parted ways just inside the library, but the warmth of Bull’s regard carried Dorian through the afternoon. 

Bull dropped in once more near the end of the day to tell him he had to work for a few more hours, an emergency in the president’s building. 

“You don’t have to spend the whole day with me,” he said as he packed away his things. “I’m not fragile.”

Bull grinned as he wrapped a hand around Dorian’s bicep and squeezed the muscle. “It’s not you I’m worried about, big guy. If you’re going to do some damage, I want to be there to see it.”

Dorian pushed him away with a laugh. “I appreciate the concern, but I think I can make it back home without any major incidents.”

Felix called as Dorian walked in the door. “I think I have something for you.”

“Good evening to you, as well, Felix.” The warm feeling that had spread through him at Bull’s attention throughout the day began to falter.

“Yes, Dorian, because we all know how attached you are to pleasantries. I have news, if you’re interested.”

He sat, because he wasn’t sure his legs would hold him and tried to listen to Felix’s words over the pounding of his heart. He should have gotten a glass of water to wash away the taste of blood in his mouth. Just because he knew it wasn’t there didn’t mean it didn’t linger at the back of his teeth. 

“There’s someone I want you to see. His name is Cole and he has an office not far from Skyhold’s campus.”

The ring on his right hand glinted back sunlight as he spun it with his thumb. “I told you I don’t want to involve authorities.”

“He’s a doctor, a therapist, who specializes in trauma.” Gentle. Felix’s words were so gentle, as if he was talking to a small child or a lost animal.

“I don’t have trauma.”

“Then it won’t hurt to see him.” How he could sound so calm, so rational in the face of their discussion, Dorian didn’t know. “You don’t have to worry, I’ve already taken care of his fees, just call and set up an appointment.”

“You didn’t tell Alexius.” It wasn’t Felix’s to tell.

“No, I did not tell my father. I want him to develop healthy pursuits and I’m sure that going to war with your father would not be good for him. Because that’s what would happen, if I said anything, he’d probably burn your familial home to the ground. No one needs that right now.” He cleared his throat. “Now. I’ll ask for your word, Dorian. Make an appointment and keep it.”

The thought of sitting in a sterile little office and talking to a stranger was appalling. A Pavus dealt with his own problems, found his own solutions. Of course, his father resorted to blood magic and mutilation to solve his problems so, perhaps. “I swear. Give me the information and I’ll see him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back into things being not quite so dire. Apologies to anyone who was a little thrown by the drama/angst in the previous chapters. In all honesty, I didn't expect anything other than a fun little fish out of water type story, but I think this is coming along nicely.
> 
> I've been on vacation for the past couple of days and have eaten up almost all of my buffer chapters, so I really need to buckle in and get some good work done so there isn't a gap in my posting schedule. 
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who's keeping up with me, I love that you're reading along and keeping me engaged in this work! You're the best!


	13. Don't be Bothered by the Fears

Dorian declined Bull’s offer of a ride to the office. He wouldn’t have even told him, had Bull not asked to spend the evening together and Dorian found he didn’t want to lie about the reason he was unavailable. Bull took it in stride, as he’d taken everything in stride and Dorian wondered when Bull would reach a breaking point. When would Dorian’s difficulties become too much for a budding, what were they even doing, was it a relationship?

“Oi! In or out,” someone shouted through the door.

With a deep breath, Dorian opened the door and was confronted by a slim elf with aggressively blonde hair behind a desk. “How did you know?”

She pointed to the ceiling. “Camera, isn’t it? You got an appointment-thing?”

“Dorian Pavus, six o’clock.”

“Ooooo, fancy. You sad about sleeping on your piles of money, yeah?”

Dorian took a step back, sure then that the appointment was a bad idea. The door to the inner office opened and a slip of a young man poked his head out. “Sera, is he here?” He looked to Dorian. “ _Holding, helping, hurting. My mouth is filled with blood. How can he do this?_ ”

Those were his words, his thoughts. Dorian took another step back. “What are you?”

“I help people. When they hurt. I can feel the hurt. I can help, if you’ll let me.”

Sera, who suddenly seemed the less strange of the two, jerked her chin at him. “Go on, then. He gets less freaky. Sort of.”

The next fifty minutes were some of the strangest of his life. He could feel the spirit roving beneath the skin of the man, once he was close enough, and it explained quite a lot. What was not clear was how the spirit had managed to gain a license and a deed to the building and a clientele. Or why Felix though that this was the best option for Dorian.

Instead of a quiet, easy session where they got to know each other a little, Cole dove right in, replaying the flashback and his fear. He kept going back and back and back to his fear. How it was tangled in his love and hurt. He was very good at picking at the things Dorian didn’t want to face. 

“I thought you were supposed to help,” Dorian said near the end of the session. He felt wrung out and more upset, not less.

“This is not magic.” Cole sat forward. “Or maybe it is like magic. You have to work at both to see results.”

Dorian understood hard work, at least. “Why now, though. It’s been years.”

“Slipping, sliding, settling. You’ve been running but now you’ve found a place to rest. You’re heart is opening.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” He stood. His time was up.

Cole seemed unsurprised at his sudden move. “Make an appointment with Sera before you leave.”

Dorian chose a day for the following week and set and reminder on his phone. Outside, the sun was mostly set and it was a longer walk back to his apartment than from the College, but Dorian didn’t mind. The chill air and solitude gave him the time and focus to sort through his thoughts.

#

The next night, he worked with Cullen in the empty gym. He asked Bull to accompany them, more for Cullen’s safety than his own. Days after their first encounter, he was still sore in spots where he struggled against Bull’s grip and he didn’t want to hurt Cullen. Having Bull in the room made him feel safe in his own skin. 

“Bring up your magic, I will tamp it down and if you’re feeling all right, we can go through some physical moves.”

Dorian shook out his hands and then called up a barrier, checking to see that Bull was still in the corner of the room. The barrier held firm, strong against Cullen’s testing strike. Then Cullen nodded, waited for Dorian’s response and did _something_ to put Dorian’s magic out of his reach.

The bottom dropped out of his stomach and a slick, clammy sweat broke out over his face and chest, but he stayed where he was, present, not lost in memory. He forced deep breaths instead of thin, high ones and focused on Cullen.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

As planned, Cullen closed the distance between them and moved in for a strike to Dorian’s chest. Dorian knew the move, he’d been taught to sidestep and twist it twenty years ago. But he was distracted by the loss of his magic and the focus he should have had on his opponent was instead directed at what blocked him.

He put his arm up, but not in time to stop Cullen’s strike, or Cullen’s hand that shot out to keep him from stumbling. He wrenched himself from Cullen’s grip. “Again,” he said angry at himself for allowing the weakness to distract him. 

He and Cullen sparred until Dorian found a fault in the barrier that kept him from his magic. He shoved at the soft spot until he broke through and then filled himself with magic until he was crackling with electricity. Cullen stepped back, but had the grace not to appear fearful as Dorian eased his grip. He put up another barrier. “Again.”

They worked for an hour, Dorian trying to learn to fight through the distraction, Cullen keeping his distance when it appeared Dorian was overwhelmed. In a real fight, Dorian would have been overtaken in moments, and that was why he kept pushing. He would have continued had Bull not stood from his spot on the floor and moved between them at the end of their last bout. 

Cullen nodded in agreement at the break. “This was a good start.”

“Good? You and I have very different definitions of ‘good’, ser.” He wiped the sweat from his face with the shoulder of his shirt. Though he was tired, he was also not any better at defending himself and in his frustration he wanted to continue.

Bull laughed. “Yeah, your definition is shit. Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” Bull pulled him toward the door. “You two can play again next week.”

“I’m not a child,” Dorian said once they were outside. The air was cold and he was instantly chilled. 

“I know. And I’m going to show you how much I know, once we get some food in you. You’re working really hard. I get that. But it’s okay to take a break.”

Dorian wanted to argue, but couldn’t find a finger hold to gain entryway into a fight. “Right.”

But then, Bull’s phone rang. The volume was up and Dorian heard the panicked rundown of the power outage in one of the dorms. Bull stayed quiet, his phone pressed against his ear and a deepening frown overtaking his face. When he hung up, he shoved his phone into his pocket. “I have to go.” Though the term hadn’t started, student athletes were back early and their designated dorm was almost full. 

“I surmised.”

“I’d let Krem take care of it, but—“

“Go. I can see myself home.” He leaned up and claimed a kiss before he left, and let it carry him home. 

#

Finally, finally at the end of the week, Dorian got to have a night out with Bull. They met at the bar where Dorian drank just a little too much as the conversation flowed around them. It turned out Cassandra was an excellent storyteller, even if she had a penchant for sweetly happy endings. Cullen had a few stories of his days with the Templars that didn’t involve making some poor mage tranquil and Vivienne, shared a brief anecdote while verbally slicing them all. Dorian was certain he was the only one at the table who noticed. It was delightful.

They stayed late, not long enough to close the bar, but long enough to outlast most of their companions. When he stood, finally ready to leave, he steadied himself on Bull’s broad shoulder. “Shall we?”

Bull stood and followed Dorian from the bar into the cold night air. It was crisp enough that he saw his breath as he spoke. “I’d like to see your house.”

Bull shoved his hands into his pockets and didn’t move from the door. “I can drive you home.”

“It’s late and we’ve both been drinking. It’s a shorter walk to your place.” He hesitated when Bull’s silence went on a little long. The sourness of the beer revisited him as he contemplated the meaning of the silence. “Unless you don’t want,” he sighed. “Of course you don’t want.” He squared his shouldered and stepped away. “I’ll see myself home.”

A rumble, somewhere between exasperation and affection rolled out of Bull as he threw his arm over Dorian’s shoulders and pulled him close. “You are the most difficult man I’ve ever known.” But he steered them away from the bar and out toward the far side of campus, toward the tennis courts.

“Feel free to turn me away if I’m so much trouble.” He kept his voice light, but there was a burning coal seated just below his breastbone ready to ignite in pain should Bull give him up now.

Bull let his head fall back. “Remind me to have this conversation with you in the morning. I’m too drunk to do it now.”

“What conversation?” Though the idea that he would be with Bull in the morning, tucked up in his little house as the sun rose over their weekend was enough to make him not care about the answer.

“The one about how you’re ready to throw this whole thing over the second you hit a patch that’s a little rough.” They passed the tennis courts and turned up a narrow pathway in amongst a high set of bushes. Without Bull to guide him, he would have walked right past the opening. Ahead, there as a small, single level house with wide windows and a shed in the back. Bull unlocked the door, ushered Dorian in and then crowed against him. “How you think because we’re going slow and I’m trying to give you what you’ve never had, it means there’s something wrong.”

Dorian lost track of Bull’s conversation under the press of his hand and the heat of his body. Morning was the place for conversation. He’d rather use his tongue for something else. He rose up on his tiptoes and sucked at Bull’s neck, the sharp tang of salt cutting against his tongue. 

“How you think because I’m not fucking you, it means I don’t want you at all.”

The thrum of Bull’s heart moved against Dorian’s chest. He didn’t care about the reasons, he didn’t care about anything but the smooth-rough touch of Bull’s hands. “But we could be. We could be fucking right now.” He threw his arms around Bull’s neck and jumped up, trusting Bull to catch him. And Bull’s hands caught up under his thighs as Dorian wrapped his legs around Bull’s waist. It put them at eye level and Dorian dove in for a kiss of his own. “We could be.”

Bull growled and Dorian felt it rumble through his whole body. “Pushy ‘Vint,” he said against Dorian’s mouth, the edge of his teeth catching on Dorian’s lip. “Like I could say no. Let me take care of you.”

Dorian made a frustrated sound, the mellowness from the alcohol dimming under his ire. “What does that even mean?”

Bull turned and walked them toward the bedroom. “It means you let me do things for you. You let me make you happy. You let me make you feel good.” He leaned down and deposited Dorian on the bed, a huge monstrosity in dark-stained thick wood, but stayed close.

“And what am I supposed to do?”

“You let me.” He smoothed his palm over the bulge in Dorian’s pants. “Like a good boy.”

The moan that escaped him was entirely involuntary. He was almost dizzy from how fast he got hard and arched into Bull’s touch.

Bull pressed closer, his lips against the shell of Dorian’s ear. “Oh, yeah?”

Dorian closed his eyes. “Apparently, yes.” Who knew?

“Open your eyes,” Bull whispered, his free hand turned Dorian’s face toward him. When Dorian complied, he grinned. “That’s my good boy.”

All the air he had in his lungs left him in a rush. “Oh, Maker.” He reached up and clutched at Bull, pulling him close until his body was pressed against Dorian, weighing him into the mattress. 

Something close to a growl sounded in Bull’s throat. “Look at you.” He nipped at the curve of Dorian’s jaw and the sensitive skin behind his ear before sitting back. “Let me see you.” He drew Dorian out of his shirt, then helped him out of his shoes and the rest of his clothes until he was bare on Bull’s bed. “Gorgeous.”

Dorian swallowed hard. “Perhaps you’d care to do something other than admire the view?”

Bull gathered Dorian’s hands and drew them up, stretching them over Dorian’s head to rest against the headboard. “Can you keep them there, for me?”

“Yes.” He clutched at the headboard, smooth and sturdy under his fingers as he ached to be touched. 

“And you’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“Yes. Please, Bull.” He arched his back, though Bull was no longer over him, but stretched out next to him. “Please.”

Bull shushed him and ran one hand, calloused and firm, from Dorian’s knee up over his thigh, into the well of his pelvic bones, across his chest to rest above his heart. Dorian wanted to let go of the headboard and guide Bull’s hands to his cock, but he kept them still and instead focused on where Bull was touching him. 

With Dorian’s heart pounding under his hand, Bull leaned in, his lips a breath from Dorian’s ear. “Beautiful. So good. So good for me.” 

Eyes squeezed shut against the overload of sensations, Dorian heaved for breath and nearly shouted when Bull finally took him in hand. His massive hand was over-hot and just the right amount of firm as he caressed Dorian from base to tip in one smooth motion. 

“Look at you. Already so close.” 

Dorian thrust up into Bull’s fist, his mouth pressed into a tight, firm line to keep in the sounds that wanted to escape. 

“So good. So strong.” He circled his thumb over the head of Dorian’s cock, his body twitching against Dorian’s side. “Let me hear you. Don’t hide.”

Dorian couldn’t have held in his next moan if he tried, urged on by Bull’s words and hand. He gasped, his breath caught on a long syllable that might have been some variation of Bull’s name. 

“That’s it. So good. You’re perfect.” He darted in and sucked at Dorian’s pulse point. “Come for me,” he said, tightening his grip just enough to push Dorian over the edge.

Bull stroked him through his orgasm, his touch firm and gentle as Dorian tried to regain his breath. He helped Dorian release his hold from the headboard and kissed his palms. “You did so well. You were so good.” He kissed Dorian, slow and sweet as Dorian tried to find the energy to reach out to Bull to return the favor. But Bull laughed and pushed his weak hands away when he found the front of Bull’s pants damp. “I’m good. Watching you was enough.”

Dorian shivered at the words. No one had ever gotten off on Dorian’s pleasure before. “I just need a moment.”

Bull reached into his bedside table to produce two small towels and handed one to Dorian. “I told you, I’m good.” He wiped his hand, then drew off his pants and wiped down the mess there.

As he took care of himself, Dorian did not relish the thought of the walk home. It was cold and the alcohol and sex made him heavy-limbed and tired. “Do you know where my pants are?”

“You planning on going somewhere?” Bull drew back the covers and leaned across Dorian to turn out the light. He pulled Dorian against his chest, his horns preventing the big/little spoon awkwardness.

“I,” the house was dark and quiet around them, and the bed was so comfortable. “I guess not.”

The last thing he heard before drifting to sleep was Bull’s voice. “Brave boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this one got a little away from me. I thought about splitting this one into two, but I liked the flow too much to break it up.
> 
> Also, if there is anyone on any planet with a praise kink it's Dorian fucking Pavus. Am I right?


	14. That Sing from My Eyes Like Carillon

In the light of a new day, alcohol burned off during the night, and alone in Bull’s bed, Dorian was hesitant. He’d thought he was well in tune with his own desires. But then Bull something from him he’d not been aware of, and during only their second encounter. It didn’t help that outside the heat of the moment, he felt ridiculous responding as he did just to Bull’s words. 

He stretched, his fingers brushing the headboard and a shiver of memory ran through him at the touch. Though alone, he still looked around the room to make sure no one saw his momentary weakness before he stood and began looking for his clothes. Though he knew Bull had been careless in removing them the night before, he found them neatly folded near the bed, waiting. 

The curtains were drawn against the early morning light as well as nosy students. He dressed in peace and then took a look around the room that he didn’t remember much of from the previous evening. The dresser matched the bed: thick, sturdy wood, stained dark. A full length mirror was attached to the inside of the closet door, so that when it was open, it could be angled toward the bed. Made sense, as Bull clearly never used it to look at his casual attire before leaving the house, but he seemed like the kind of man to like to watch what happened on his bed. There was a chair in one corner and a trunk at the foot of the bed. The room was filled with furniture, but no small details from Bull. No pictures, or trinkets, not even loose change.

Afraid to be caught looking, Dorian used the mirror to make sure his hair and mustache were in proper order before stepping into the living room. “Bull?” There the curtains had been opened and light of the morning filled the space, again strangely bare of personal affects. He called again, but it seemed he was alone in the house. How odd.

Dorian edged into the kitchen, unsure if he should leave, or wait, or make himself at home. He was hungry, but didn’t want to presume to rifle through Bull’s fridge or cabinets, though the temptation was high. He decided on a glass of water and a stroll around the outside of Bull’s home once he was finished.

It was there that Dorian finally found evidence of the man. Carefully tended bushes and flowers—delicate pink roses that still held strong in the fall sunlight. There was a small garden behind the house with handset stone path of tiny multicolored pebbles that must have taken ages to arrange. The wooden bench beneath the oak was stained and weatherproofed and there was a small birdbath that held a pool of water clear from debris.

Standing in the garden felt more intrusive than looking through Bull’s medicine cabinet.

“I thought you’d gone.”

Dorian jumped and spun to find Bull at the edge of the garden with a steaming paper cup outstretched. “I wasn’t sure—“

Bull waved him off as Dorian accepted the cup. “Thought you’d still be sleeping. I realized I didn’t have anything for breakfast and ran out to grab us something.” He jerked a shoulder back toward the house. “If you’re hungry.”

The walk back inside was silent as Dorian strove for something to say. All the words at his command, hours and hours of etiquette lessons on small talk and Dorian couldn’t find anything to break the silence. He sipped his drink, strong, dark coffee, and sat at Bull’s table.

Either ignorant of Dorian’s struggle, or careless of it, Bull dropped a paper bag on the table. “I didn’t know what you’d want, so I got a couple things. I’m easy, so pick what you want.”

Dorian pulled out the bagel with cream cheese and left the breakfast sandwich to Bull. “Thank you.”

“You feeling weird about last night?”

Dorian shifted in his seat and stared at the table. “Right to the point, I see.”

“Why edge around something when you can face it right on? That was new for you, huh?”

He let out a long sigh and pushed his food away. “Yes, well. I come from a land of moral and personal decadence and depravity. It’d have been easier to discover I enjoyed being spanked, I think.”

“You’re upset because your kink isn’t kinky enough?” Bull shook his head and ate half his sandwich in one bite. 

“Well, it’s terribly pedestrian, isn’t it?” He gestured with his hand, a flick of his fingers. “I was never good enough so I like it when you tell me I am.” It couldn’t be more obvious.

“Nothing wrong with being obvious. And nothing wrong with you.” Bull finished his sandwich and crumpled up the paper to put back in the bag. “But if you don’t like it, if it makes you uncomfortable once we’re not in the bedroom. It’s not something we have to do.”

Dorian cleared his throat. “But what do you get out of it?”

Bull spread his hand and leaned back in his chair. “I mean, what’s not to like? I get to have you stretched out in my bed like the prettiest thing around, I get to watch you try so hard to be good and I get to tell you that you’re beautiful.” He hummed, his eye tracing Dorian’s features with an intense weight. “Yeah, I get plenty.”

A shiver ran up his spine and Dorian decided he liked it. And maybe he was allowed to have something he liked. “All right, then.” He picked up his breakfast and moved the conversation on to their plans for the day.

After breakfast, Bull gave Dorian a detailed tour of his garden, naming every flower, detailing every plant. As Dorian suspected, Bull had placed each pebble in the pathway and had even built the bench himself. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise, considering how much work Bull did with his hands, but the flowers were so delicate and lovely. Perhaps Bull wasn’t lying when he said he liked pretty things.

They spent the day in each other’s company. Dorian read through Bull’s books on gardening, the only printed material in the house, while Bull wrote actual, physical letters. Curious about who warranted such an old-fashioned amount of attention, Dorian didn’t ask, preferring to keep the companionable quiet between them. It reminded him of the day they spent working together in his office, one of the most pleasant memories he had. 

In the late morning, Dorian took his phone call with Felix where he avoided every topic of major importance and instead made Felix talk about party preparations. Felix, in a fit of childishness, threatened to put Alexius on the phone if he was so interested. He let Felix express his concern about Halward and the blood magic and Dorian’s feelings, which was ridiculous as Dorian was not the one with the wasting disease.

Bull asked if he wanted something to drink as Dorian was wrapping up the call and Felix struck on the unexpected voice like a viper. “Is that him? Your mystery man?”

“What have you been reading while I’ve been gone? Mystery man? Hardly. And yes, that is him.” He accepted a glass of water, along with the slow stoke of his shoulder as Bull walked to the other side of the room. 

“Is he in your apartment? How scandalous.”

Even playful, the words struck Dorian the wrong way and any desire he had to speak of Bull died. “No.”

Felix, usually so in tune with Dorian’s tone of voice, missed the cue and gasped in mock surprise. “Dorian Pavus, did you stay the night at his place?”

“Yes. I have to go, Felix.”

“You know, you promised me a picture weeks ago. I still have no idea what your man looks like. Is he very dashing?”

Dorian closed his eyes. He knew Felix was teasing, knew he meant nothing by it. “Goodbye, Felix.” He hung up before anything more could be said. 

Bull cleared his throat from the other side of the room. “You know there’s nothing actually scandalous going on here, right?”

Though he couldn’t in good conscience turn off his phone, he could turn down the volume on his alerts. “It’s impolite to eavesdrop.”

“Can’t help it when your friend shouts like he’s talking to you from a wind tunnel.” He stood and crossed the room, pulling Dorian to his feet. “But really. Nothing unnatural going on here.” He broke up his words with kisses to Dorian’s mouth, his neck, and the exposed slip of his collarbone. 

Dorian chose not to answer and instead let Bull coddle him just a bit. They curled around each other on Bull’s wide couch. He let Bull stroke his skin, kiss the sharp points of his elbows and knees and the tender, sensitive pulse points at his throat and wrists. He let Bull arrange him on the couch in the broad sunlight as Bull called him pretty, which was unmistakable, and good, which from Bull’s reverent whisper, Dorian almost believed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost skipped this section but realized Dorian really, really needed this conversation.


	15. Just Close Your Eyes it Won't Hurt a Bit

“You’re here late.”

Dorian did not jump at the appearance of Cullen at his door. The library was long closed, the rest of his staff hours gone, but Dorian’s grant was due the next day and he wanted to make sure everything was perfect before he sent it off. Once he submitted it, it was out of his hands and he didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night the following week and realize he’d left out something critical to their success. “So are you.”

It took Dorian a moment to realize that Cullen wasn’t going to enter the room until Dorian waved him in. At his motion, Cullen crossed the threshold and took a seat. “I’m on the night shift this week.”

“Must be quite dull without the students around.”

“I like the quiet.” Cullen shrugged, his shoulders just a little tense, suggesting there was far more to his words than he was willing to share.

Dorian sat back and rubbed his eyes, noticing the headache building behind them. “How’d you end up here, if you don’t mind my asking?” If they could get past Cullen’s need to apologize for their first meeting and Dorian’s instinctive need to antagonize a former Templar who couldn’t quite control his flinch at unexpected magic, he thought they might have some good conversations. If nothing else, it was amusing to watch the man rub the back of his neck and stammer when Dorian flirted with him. It wasn’t even intentional, just the baseline interaction he had with most people, but Cullen took each suggestion personally. 

“I was with the Templars for a long time. They turned out not to be what I thought they were.” He said it the way Dorian explained about his father’s attempt at blood magic. A whirling pit of something far deeper than words could express. 

“Ah, the disappointment of institutional bigotry.” _You are no son of mine._

Cullen’s gaze turned toward the window. “Something like that.” He motioned to Dorian’s desk. “Am I keeping you?”

“More like I’m keeping myself. The work is done. I’m running in circles over commas at this point. Probably best I put it to bed.” He hesitated though, as he’d been hesitating for the last hour. Once he sent it off, it was done. And if there was an error on his part, some key bit of information or wording that wasn’t persuasive or appropriate, he would fail at the first task set to him by the president. 

He scrubbed his hands over his face, digging into his closed eyes until he saw sparks and drew in a fortifying breath. “And what’s your recommendation, Captain? Fearlessness or caution?”

A slight smile played at the edges of Cullen’s mouth. “It’s hard to say without the whole board in front of me, but fearlessness is always a profound closing move.”

“Is chess your game, Captain?”

Cullen shrugged. “When I can find an opponent. Not so many people play these days.”

“Well, you’re in luck.” He hit send, waited for his confirmation and then shut down his computer. “Outdated intellectual pursuits were an integral part of my upbringing.” He could move through dozens of intricately stepped dances, identify wine by region and year, and call out knock-off designer clothes and jewelry from a dozen paces. All of it useless. He did like a good game of chess, though.

“You play?” He sounded delighted, sat forward with a real smile. 

He was a bit like an overgrown dog, in his eagerness. “I could be persuaded.” His good manners could not stop the yawn that popped the joint in his jaw. “Apologies, Captain. I could be persuaded, but perhaps in the daylight hours.”

Cullen stood like he was stung. “Of course.”

“No need for the dramatics. It’s merely been a long day and I’m due for some sleep, I think, before I have to be back tomorrow.” Once his desk was clear and ready for a clean start the next day, Dorian stood. “Maybe we could meet one day this week? There’s the lovely little table back behind the library that no one ever uses.”

Cullen smiled. “Yes, good. I mean, that’s good. I’d like that.”

They walked together from the darkened library out into the chill night. Glowing lampposts illuminated the walkway down to the main entrance to the College and Dorian’s path home. Cullen walked with him a little way, until the path split and he took a turn to the left. “You’ll be all right getting home?”

It was an effort not to roll his eyes, but Dorian managed, hiding another yawn behind his hand. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern, Captain.” They parted ways. 

How strange to be in a place so far from his home and find people who wanted to spend time with him. Other than Felix, Dorian couldn’t name two other people who enjoyed his company or whose company he enjoyed. Even his own parents barely tolerated his presence once it became clear he would not let them control him. In Skyhold, he found people who still counted him friend after learning the very things that drove him from his homeland. 

Though not part of the main campus, the side street and the block of apartments were part of Skyhold’s property. It was a quiet walk, though Bull promised the solitude wouldn’t last once term started and students filled the dorms and apartments. When the students did come, Dorian didn’t think that he would mind, so much. There were other benefits to living close including the short walk to work. And the short walk to Bull. Had it been just a little less late, had he been a little surer of his welcome, Dorian would have crossed campus to Bull’s house instead of heading home.

But, it was after midnight and Bull was always up early with his crew, hours before the rest of staff came to campus. Dorian didn’t want to interrupt his sleep. And he didn’t want to risk the burning brand of rejection should Bull turn him away.

Behind him, he heard the quiet hum of a car and moved a little closer to the inside of the sidewalk. A heavy rain in the afternoon dropped the temperature and left deep standing puddles along the roadways. Though he was close to home, Dorian didn’t want to end his night in the spray of water from a speeding car tire. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

The pop of the tire jumping the curb was the only warning Dorian had that something was wrong. He turned in time to see the front of a huge black car barreling down at him. It stuck before he could throw up a barrier. 

Pain arced across his chest and abdomen as the impact threw him off his feet. He tried to fight through the pain to bring a barrier up before he hit, but it was only half finished when his back hit the sidewalk and his head cracked down with a sickening thud.

Dazed, wind knocked from his lungs and the taste of blood in his mouth made Dorian frantic. His arms wouldn’t respond, his body out of his control. A whine, high and frantic broke through is mouth when he was finally able to suck in a breath.

It was dark, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t get up. The car door slammed and Dorian couldn’t lift his head to see the person approach. He couldn’t tell if his vision was darkening or if it was just night.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What do we do?” A voice, high and wavering.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Another voice, no less panicked.

“I’m not even supposed to have the car. Shit. Do you think anyone saw?”

“We can’t just leave him here, dude. We’ve got to call someone.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll call and then go. That’s okay, right?”

There was a shuffle of sound, footsteps, sound fading. It wasn’t the night, his vision was definitely blacking out. It hurt to breath, and he still couldn’t move. Something wet tricked from his mouth and down his cheek to pool by his ear.

“No! Not the cops. They can trace the call. Call campus security.” Car doors slammed again, the flash of headlights, so bright. 

“Dorian!” 

He blinked to Cullen’s face, close to his own. His hands warm and surprisingly gentle as they took his pulse. 

“Hang on. I’ve got an ambulance coming.”

He wanted to obey, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open and no amount of shouting from Cullen could change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here you find out what a hack I am. I will write 25,000+ words for hurt/comfort including but not limited to vehicular injuries and head trauma. I love a good head wound and am not above building an elaborate AU to get it.


	16. Telling Myself I Could be Strong

Sterile disinfectant. Tang of elfroot. Low level hum of magic.

It was not a surprise when Dorian opened his eyes to the inside of a hospital room, the shades drawn against afternoon sunlight. He blinked, took stock of his body. He could feel everything, including pain, but it was all distant, buried under layers of elfroot. He swiped his tongue over his teeth. Royal elfroot.

“You know, if you wanted to see me, you could have asked. No need to be so dramatic.”

Dorian turned his head, slow, slow, as the room shifted and spun. Felix was sitting in a chair at his bedside. But Felix was in Tevinter. He couldn’t be in two places at once, could he?

Felix pointed his cell at Dorian. “You are delightfully high. I have five minutes of footage from earlier this morning when you talked about how much you love bunnies because of their cute little noses. I thought you were going to cry.” 

A slow blink didn’t help Dorian focus. He felt better when he opened his eyes. But the light was different and Felix was holding a cup in his hand rather than a phone. “I think I’m losing time. Did the spell backfire?”

Felix hummed around his sip, then set the cup aside, scooting closer to Dorian’s bedside. “No, no spells. You were hit by a car walking home. I thought you were supposed to be safer here. I have to tell you, I don’t much care for sitting on this side of the hospital bed.”

“I was in my office, with Cullen.” They’d been talking about chess? “How are you here?” He coughed and let Felix spoon some ice into his mouth. It wasn’t as good as water, but it was close. 

“You were hurt on College property. I’m listed as your emergency contact. Father had the jet ready before I was off the phone.” He leaned forward and squeezed Dorian’s shoulder. His hand was warm. “Are you in pain? Shall I call someone?”

He started to shake his head, but the dizziness returned. “No. I’m all right.” As the swirling in the room settled, he caught sight of a clock on the wall, well past three. “I missed work.” Something else was wrong. Something was missing. “I had a meeting.”

“It’s the middle of the week, my friend. Any meetings you had were scheduled for yesterday, and I can assure you everyone has been told.”

So he was missing time. “Am I dying?”

Felix laughed, the bold echo bouncing off the walls. “No. You’ll be fine. They were worried about your head injury and the blood loss, so they kept you under for a day to let your body rest. And you managed to hit the back of your head, so your pretty face is unaffected. Well done.”

The word pretty tipped the first block in a path that led to, “Bull.”

“Yes, your mystery man. Though less of a mystery now that I’ve met him.” Felix clicked his tongue. “You failed to mention your paramour is a Qunari. I can’t help but think it was an intentional lapse, given that I’ve been asking for a picture.”

“He’s not here.” His absence felt worse than the wounds. Why wasn’t he there?

Felix squeezed his shoulder again. “If you didn’t look so pathetic, I’d be very annoyed with you right now. I flew thousands of miles to worry at your sickbed, he only has to cross a city.”

And then he felt worse. He closed his eyes against a rush of tears, turned his face away. “Thank you for coming.”

A gentle sigh escaped from Felix. “You’re no fun like this. Please don’t be upset, it’s the potions. The nurse said it could affect you this way. Bull’s been here as much as he could. You spoke with him a few times, don’t you remember?”

The blank space from sitting with Cullen in his office to that moment was an impassible gulf. “No.”

“I sent him off to get some food. He hasn’t eaten in days, worried over you. He’s quite smitten.”

Dorian drew in a breath, as deep as the pain would allow him. He felt awash with emotion and the potion kept him from being able to sort and box them away as he normally did. A sudden flash of lying on the ground with blood in his mouth came to him, but he didn’t know if it was from his accident or from his father. “I’m not ashamed of him.”

“All right.” Felix drew out the word, as if he was placating Dorian in his state.

“I didn’t want you to think I was using him as a fuck you to my father.” He stared at the ceiling unable to look at Felix. He’d never been able to talk with Felix with any honesty about his relationships. Making light of the things that didn’t matter, not speaking of the things that did. Felix was such a bright light, Dorian didn’t want his personal matters to pull Felix down to his level. “I like him. I like him so much and I didn’t want you to think that I was using him.”

From the doorway, Bull cleared his throat and Dorian had never, ever wanted to lapse into unconsciousness as much in his whole life. “Hey, big guy. How about you save these conversations until you’re one hundred percent in control of your mouth, okay?” He came into the room and kissed Dorian’s forehead, mindful of the horns and handed a paper sack to Felix. 

Felix stood and relinquished the chair to Bull who looked ridiculous squeezed into seat meant for a much smaller person. “I’ll go stretch my legs.” He took the food with him and left Dorian alone with Bull.

“You seem a little more alert this time.” Easy. Bull’s presence was always easy even when Dorian was fraught. 

He felt out of control, but having Bull next to him helped soothe some of the wild edges. “I don’t remember earlier. Felix said I was awake, but,” he closed his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Bull took his hand, twined their fingers together. “Don’t force it. Felix probably didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to scare you, but you were hurt pretty bad. You’re fine now, but it’s going to be a bit before your up like your old self. Sure as shit’s going to take longer than two days.”

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What do we do_

Dorian shook his head, trying to clear the voices. They brought back the feeling of cement under his back, pain in his chest. 

“Dorian?”

“I think there were two of them? They sounded young.”

Bull stroked his temple, his touch so light. “Don’t push. You’re all right. You’re safe here.”

“I don’t want to sleep.” He didn’t want to miss Bull again. Didn’t want to wake up and not remember.

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. Rest.”

#

When he woke again, it was to a clearer head and less of a persistent ache in his body. He remembered waking once, in the middle of the night, gasping for breath as the edge of a nightmare still lingered. But Bull had been there to hold is hand as Felix told outrageous lies about their childhood until Dorian was able to ease back into sleep.

Neither Bull nor Felix were in the chair next to his bed, but he could hear their voices, hushed, hissing in the corridor outside his room.

“And I’m his medical proxy.” Felix’s voice was loud enough to carry through the door. “You’re not going in there.”

A few moments later Felix and Bull entered, both a little surprised that Dorian was awake. “And who deserved such severe words outside my sick room?”

The two exchanged a look and Dorian was pretty sure he didn’t love the idea of them conspiring together. “It’s nothing,” Bull said eventually, his face calm and even. Without Felix standing at his side, shifting from foot to foot and looking guilty, Dorian would have believed him.

“Felix?”

Felix looked to Bull first who shrugged and said, “He’ll find out soon enough. Since someone can’t keep his tells to himself.”

“One of you needs to tell me what’s going on.” He raised his voice, and then regretted it as the pain in his head that had been muted fared back to life. 

“A retainer from your father was here. He wanted to give you a message.” Felix sagged into the chair by Dorian’s side. “I sent him away.”

“My father?” He looked to the door, thinking he could see the man himself standing on the other side. “How did he know to send someone?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Felix frowned. “He said the two of you have been in contact?”

“Not really. There was a letter that I burned and he tried to call.” 

“And you didn’t think to tell anyone?” Felix sat forward. “He’s a powerful man, Dorian. And after what he did, any contact could be dangerous.”

Bull took a seat at the end of Dorian’s bed and rested his hand on Dorian’s leg, just below his knee, a warm, steady pressure. “What did he do?” 

Felix glanced between them, and then paled. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry.” He stood. “I thought he knew.”

“Knew what?” Bull asked as Dorian slumped back in the bed, his head aching. “What do you mean by dangerous?”

“I’ll just take myself for a walk, yes?” Felix fairly fled the room leaving Dorian to stare at the ceiling. 

“Dorian?”

He brought a hand up to cover his eyes, pressing at his temples. The pressure didn’t ease the ache, but it felt better than the unrelenting pain. “I didn’t want to tell you just yet. I was going to, I think.” Bad enough that Felix and a stranger who took money for his memories knew. He didn’t want Bull to look at him any differently, to search his arms looking for scars that weren’t there, or see him as something that needed to be fixed. He was fine.

“Are you in danger?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.” Maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe there was part of him that still desperately wanted his father not to be the man he became. “It started three and a half years ago.” He laughed. “Well, it started when I was sixteen and they caught me kissing Varius while his parents were staying for a visit. Mother couldn’t have more children and all the hopes of the Pavus line rested on my queer little shoulders.”

His father shouted himself hoarse and when he was done, his mother took over. _Love is for poor people, dear. You’ll put these inclinations away and we shan’t speak of it again._

He tried. He tried so hard to be what they expected. But even buried in work, excelling in magic, creating spells that no one had ever imagined, there was still a hesitance in his father’s pride, a distance in his mother’s approval that he would never, ever be able to overcome. So, he stopped trying. While other families with several children had the option of dealing with their aberrations—accidents, extended leave with distant family, tours in Seheron—the Pavus’ had to keep Dorian to keep the line.

“I was careless. I never thought he’d try to hurt me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, finally Felix. My other motivation for injury was a way to get Felix in the flesh. Phone conversations are good, but having him in the room is better. It's harder for Dorian to hide things when his friend can see him.


	17. I've Got No Reason

When someone knocked on the door to his room, Dorian’s immediate reaction was to turn his head, but the movement was too swift. His vision spun and he clutched at the sheets of his bed until the feeling passed. 

It was late, Bull and Felix both gone for the night, both promising to return in the morning. Since he was no longer lapsing into unconsciousness at irregular intervals, it seemed childish to ask one of them to stay. They’d stayed for two days and both deserved a real bed for the night. 

The staff promised to keep his visitors to a short list of approved individuals, but Dorian was still hesitant as he called out for the person to enter. 

Cullen poked his head into the room. “I don’t want to stay long, just wanted to check in, see how,” he offered a hesitant smile. “You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”

 _Warm hand against his cold, cold face_. Dorian blinked away the memory. “Don’t hover in the doorway, didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude?” He sniffed. “Of course, knowing Ferelden, no one did teach you.”

Dressed in jeans and thick cable knit sweater, Cullen looked more like a model for a backwoodman magazine rather than the head of public safety at a college, or even a former Templar. As he folded himself into the chair by Dorian’s bed, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands dangling between his legs, he looked even less so. “I came to apologize.”

If the move wouldn’t have sent a spike of pain through his head, Dorian would have rolled his eyes. As it was, he snorted instead. “We have to stop meeting this way, Captain.”

“Cullen, please.”

“As you wish. The matter still stands. I believe you were the one who assisted me? My memory of the incident isn’t very good, but I remember you.” His discussion with the local police over the matter had been disappointing at best. They expected Dorian to give them details of the incident that would lead them to the possible suspects. Sadly, most of the night after leaving his office was a blank, with the occasional fluttering impression of a face or touch, a phrase.

“I should have walked you back.”

Dorian hummed. “You know, the martyr complex is less attractive than you might expect. Does it work for you? Is there a subset of southern women who enjoy self-flagellation?” It was possible, he supposed. He was given to understand there was a match for most personal eccentricities. “I am a grown man, not a child who must be walked home.” He sighed. “I could just as easily blame myself for not leaving earlier, or not crossing campus to Bull’s,” he stopped and cleared his throat. 

Cullen lifted his head, a sly grin on his face as he latched on to Dorian’s words. “Oh, really? Moving right along with The Iron Bull, are we?”

His instinctive reaction was to lash out, call Cullen on his complete lack of companionship, but he took a breath and looked beyond Cullen’s words to his teasing tone and pleased expression. “Yes, well. It should hardly be news.”

The smile slipped from Cullen’s face and he collapsed backward in the chair, his chin tipped up toward the ceiling. “As soon as the call came through I knew. They said there was a man who looked passed out on the walk just beyond the main gate and I knew. There was so much blood, more than I’ve seen in,” he heaved in a breath, “Well, that’s not something you need to hear, I’m sure.”

Everyone kept trying to hide details of the accident from him, but without personal memory, it was as if it happened to someone else. It seemed to upset his companions more than it affected him. “It was an accident. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Surely you are not responsible for all the various subtleties of time and space?”

Cullen didn’t respond immediately. Instead he straightened up in the chair, his back straight and his shoulders firm. “I’ve kept you from your rest. I really did just stop to see for myself that you’re doing well.”

“Don’t rush off on my account, Captain.” He paused. “Cullen. I’ve done nothing but sleep for two days and my companions have left me to my own devices. Quite cruelly. I can’t read because my eyes won’t focus and the television hurts my vision. And these walls are positively dreary.”

Cullen looked around the room and spotted a celebrity gossip magazine left behind by Felix. Reading selections were limited in the hospital gift shop, apparently. Cullen flipped it open and began reading, his voice low and soothing, a laugh at the edge of his words as he recounted mindless gossip. Dorian fell asleep to news of plans for fashion week.

#

Bull was back in the morning, before Felix, before visiting hours were properly open. But the staff let him through and he lingered on the edges of Dorian’s room as his doctor finished up her exam.

“We’ll be ready to send you home this afternoon once you’ve eaten and we can check the last of your labs. You’ll need to set up a follow-up appointment for early next week so we can check your progress, but you’re doing very well.”

“For being hit by a car.”

She smiled. “Yes, very well for being hit by a car. Try to avoid them in the future, yes?” She closed his chart and hung it back up. “Someone will be by the afternoon with paperwork for you to sign and then you can go, so long as you have someone to drive you home.”

“We’ve got that covered,” Bull said, speaking for the first time.

His doctor jumped, her hand to her heart. “I’m sorry, I forgot you were there.”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Yes, well. As long as you have a ride, we’ll see you off this afternoon.” She cast one last look at Bull then left on to her next patient.

Dorian accepted Bull’s kiss. “You and Felix have been plotting again?”

“He’s good people. Got a car and driver hired to take you back to your place once they’re ready to let you go. Students are moving in this weekend, so campus isn’t going to be the best place to get some rest.”

“Of course.” If he was honest, there was a large part of him that was hurt that Bull didn’t even ask if he wanted to stay with him while he recovered. But mostly he knew the logistics were less than optimal. It was a long walk to Bull’s house and the noise from five hundred students eager to begin their new semester wasn’t likely to be the best for his head. Still, a man liked to be asked. 

Bull paced to the window, then leaned against the windowsill, his hands braced at his sides. “So, I need you to tell me how you want me to handle this stuff with your father. Cause I know some people and,” he shrugged, elegant and deadly.

Bull had been quiet for a long time after Dorian explained the nature of his strained relationship with his father. He made small encouraging noised to let Dorian know he was listening, but he didn’t say anything other than to offer his apologies for the shitty situation. “There’s nothing for you to handle. He’s my father and the situation is mine to deal with. I appreciate your concern and your,” Dorian drew a breath. “Presumably murderous intentions, but things are as I want them.”

Bull nodded. “If you say so. It doesn’t seem to be working out so well for you, though, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“Some things take time. And I’ll thank you to leave it to me, please.”

“Just, you know, this is the kind of shit you tell people about.”

Oh, how he wished he was well enough to leave the room. Or even stand on his own without tipping over. “Yes, Bull. Thank you.” He kept his words clipped and tart, hoping it would be enough to end the conversation.

“Cause when you share this stuff, the people who care about you can help.” Bull leaned in until Dorian was forced to look at him, his wide, handsome face, pointed jaw, single eye making up for the intensity of its missing partner. “Even if we can’t make it not have happened, even if you won’t let me send someone to break his legs, I can still sit here and tell you it wasn’t your fault.”

The laugh that escaped him was entirely automatic. “I have no misunderstanding about this. I am certain my father is to blame.”

“Really?” Bull paused and mimicked his words back to him in a terrible impression of Dorian’s voice, “ _I was careless_. Sounds like you blame yourself for something.” He shrugged and leaned back, breaking the intensity between them. “Maybe it’s something to talk to your guy about?”

“I,” he paused and drew in a breath, trying to listen to the words and not just react to them. Cole would certainly have something to say about his choice of words. “Perhaps you have a point.”

Bull reached out and twined their fingers together, kicking his feet up on the end of Dorian’s bed. “Good enough. I brought cards. You want to play a couple rounds to warm up before Felix gets here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was another section I almost skipped because I am as impatient and terrible as a writer as I am a reader. Luckily, I'm back to running just a couple days ahead of my posting schedule so I can go back and re-read sections to make sure I didn't skip anything important or necessary.
> 
> Posting a WIP is such a different experience from posting a finished piece. It's cool because I get immediate feedback about what's working and I can see where you've picked up what I laid down for later groundwork. But at the same time, its, hmmmm, terrifying is too strong a word. Worrying, maybe that I'm going to skip something important or idk, something.
> 
> You've all been so wonderful during this process, though. Encouraging and shouting your excitement about plot points and things that are happening. You're the best!


	18. But That I Must

“Leave off, Felix, I can walk!” He shook off Felix’s supporting hand as he closed the distance to his apartment door. Between the potions and the healers he was mostly all right, though they warned he would be plagued by headaches and spells of dizziness for weeks to come. He was well enough to be released, but Dorian still felt close to terrible and he suspected it showed on his face, if Felix’s solicitous fussing was anything to go by. 

Instead of leaving him alone, Felix’s hand fell to the middle of Dorian’s back in silent support as he opened the door. Dorian tossed his keys on the table by the door and crossed the dozen steps to his couch where he collapsed, winded and annoyed with his body.

Felix stood still in the middle of the room, his face pinched. “Oh, Dorian.”

“Don’t start. It’s perfectly nice.” Though he was sure his own reaction had been much the same as Felix’s. Over the past few weeks, though he’d come to appreciate the space. It was his own to do with as he wished. It was close to his work. It served its purpose and there was something to be said about form following function.

Felix said nothing but continued to stare at the empty walls, the sagging couch and the cheap carpet.

“It’s fine.” Perhaps it wasn’t warm and inviting. It wasn’t lined with his books—all left behind in the care of others better tended libraries. He had no decorations or fine furnishing as he was accustomed. Still, it could have been much worse. He could be surrounded by wealth and a mindless, drooling thing kept to stud. “I’m fine.”

Though he said nothing, Felix’s lips stayed thin and pressed as he found a seat next to Dorian. “Nice television. Very plebian.”

Dorian turned it on to cover the silence of his bad mood. It wasn’t Felix’s fault that his body ached and his head hurt and he was winded from the walk from the hired car to the door. “It’s delightful. You should open your mind to new experiences.”

The murmur of the television covered the silence between them for a while, Dorian full of things he didn’t want to discuss. He could practically feel Felix looking for an opening to talk about those very things. Before Felix could take control of the conversation, Dorian had to. “How long are you staying?”

“A few days. Since I’m here, might as well make up for missing time.” He smiled, genuine and not at all pinched. “It’s so good to see you.”

Some of the tension that had been resting in his shoulders eased. It was good to see him. “I’m pleased you’re here.”

“It lets me escape from the party planning, if nothing else. As if anyone cares what the color scheme is when all those invited will be interested in is gawking at me. Politely, of course.”

The good feeling slipped. “Word spread, then?” Alexius had done his best to keep Felix’s illness a secret. His only heir, he didn’t want it to be a sign of weakness for the Alexius household.

“Yes, well. It was rather difficult after,” Felix stopped and waved a hand. “Well. You were there.”

Dorian and Alexius screaming at each other in the middle of the Circle over the dangers of time magic. It had been quite the show. Both of them exhausted from near constant work, worry over Felix who had been weakening at a terrible rate. Dorian wanted so badly to be able to do one good thing, one right thing. But it wasn’t working, not the way Alexius needed it to work and not the way that wouldn’t invite terrible corruption. 

“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t remember if he’d apologized, then. In the dash to pack his things and square travel south. He’d run straight to the estate after the shouting ended. His own father had bled him for not living up to expectations. What would Alexius do to him for not being able to save his son? Dorian didn’t want to find out. 

“I think it was for the best. With it out in the open, it’s allowed us to pursue other options and consult with healers who would have been indiscrete before.” Felix cleared his throat, the words between the silence awkward and heavy. Why was it so much easier to discuss matters across distance, on the phone? He’d been aching to have Felix with him. Actually faced with him, however, he felt strange and hesitant. 

“He feels badly about what happened.”

“There’s no need. I was bound to overstay my welcome, eventually.” Better for Dorian to remember sooner rather than later that men were fallible before he dug himself in too deep. One shouting match with a moderate audience was hardly any price to pay. 

It was good news about the treatments, though. “And are they working? You seem better than when I last saw you.” He kept his eyes fixed on the television, his tone even, though he could not stop the tight curling of his hand into a fist.

Felix shrugged, the movement jostling Dorian’s arm in a way that made him think it was intentional. “Some days it seems so. Others, not as much. I think it’s more important that Father learn to accept what is coming. If not now, at some point. Death comes to us all, and even he can’t fight that.”

“Felix.”

“Stop that, I can’t stand your sad face. I’m here now.” He shifted and Dorian thought Felix might rise and try to keep himself busy, tidy the already bare apartment. Instead, he tried a different avenue of conversation. “Bull seems nice.”

The low level pain in the back of his head intensified the longer he sat. Light from the wide windows was brighter than it had been in the hospital room. It hurt to blink. “Yes. He is.”

Felix tried again. “It’s a charming campus.”

Nausea rolled up from his stomach to the back of his throat. “Lovely.” 

Felix sighed and turned to face Dorian and waited until Dorian did the same. “Are there any topics of conversations that you can manage for more than two words?”

“I’m sorry.” He swallowed against the burn of acid in his throat. Then swallowed again. “I’m not feeling,” he coughed, then bolted to the bathroom, his knees cracking against the tile as he slid to the toilet, just in time. Felix tried to follow, but in between bouts, Dorian reached out and closed the door. Some things were better done on one’s own.

There wasn’t much in his stomach to give, but his body didn’t seem to understand that. Each time his stomach contracted, the pain in his head spiked, making the nausea worse. Caught in an intensifying cycle, he couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped him, even knowing how pathetic it sounded. 

Felix knocked on the door. “Are you vomiting blood?”

He wiped a hand across his face, surprised as it shook in its path. “No,” he managed and heard Felix repeat his answer.

A few moments passed and nothing happened, a few more and he felt safe enough to flush and lean back against the tub. He was cold, despite the sweat pooling at his temples and arced over his forehead.

“Can I come in?” Felix knocked.

“Yes.”

He came bearing a glass of water and a damp cloth. Dorian set the glass on the tub, uncertain of putting anything in his body and ran the cloth over his face.

“I spoke to your doctor. She said it’s probably just the exertion of getting home. You need rest and to stay hydrated.” He nodded to the water. “If you take a sip, I’ll help you to your bed.”

Dorian rinsed out his mouth first then took an obliging sip. The cool water did feel like a relief as it slid down his ravaged throat, but it sat awkwardly in his stomach and he worried that it had been a terrible mistake. He handed the glass back to Felix and waited, tense and miserable until the feeling passed. Then, he held up his hand, ignoring the way it shook and let Felix help him to his feet.

“Come along. Bull will be here soon with your groceries and we don’t want you to sleep through his visit.”

“I’m not a child.”

Felix turned down his blankets and then eased Dorian into bed. “Of course you’re not. But you are in need of help and that’s why I’m here. So, stop being an ass and let me fuss a little. It’s a novelty.”

Prone, the room spun in lazy circles, like being drunk without any of the fun. He flailed and caught Felix’s hand. “Did I tell you I’m glad you’re here?”

“Yes,” Felix’s tone was patient and he squeezed his hand in response before going off to draw the curtains. “Now, get some rest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boys. Who's so bad at having conversations face to face? Surprise! Dorian and Felix. Maybe when Dorian's feeling better they can manage, but, ugh they are just terrible at it in the same room. It was like pulling teeth to get them to talk. And as you can can see, they didn't get very far.


	19. She Asked Me For the Truth One Time

“So then he picked up the glass, finished his drink and walked out.” Felix leaned back, laughing.

Dorian shrugged, trying not to feel embarrassed by that particular tale or the frankly horrifying number of stories Felix had at his disposal that made him sound like a pampered child. “Yes, well. I couldn’t exactly let him get away with thinking I was offended. I never would have been able to set foot in the bar again.”

They were gathered around Dorian’s table, the remains of dinner spread across the surface. Not only had Bull picked up groceries for him, but he’d also put together dinner for all three of them. The sun was well on its way to setting and though Dorian had spent most of the afternoon napping, he was starting to fade. 

“I don’t think we went back in any case.” Felix drained his wine glass and shook off the offer of a refill. “It fell out of favor not long after.”

That was a story Felix didn’t know, and Dorian had no intention of divulging. He wasn’t proud that he’d caused the downfall of an honest business man just because he wouldn’t submit to the whims of a spoiled Altus. From the time he was small, when he was sent to his first Circle and realized that he was more talented, faster, stronger, better than both his peers and those years ahead of him, Dorian had been insufferable. 

Thinking back on his behavior, Dorian couldn’t help but think that were he his father and faced with a similarly shitty child, he might also have resorted to blood magic just to make him more amiable. 

He ran his hand over his face, feeling the pull of days’ old stubble. He must look a mess. “High society is so fickle.” Weariness pulled at him, and as much as he wanted to stay and talk with Felix and Bull, bask in the two of them getting to know each other and getting along, he wasn’t sure he was going to last much longer.

And then, his phone rang.

It was late, but not so late that it could have been someone from the College, or perhaps the police with an update. They promised to keep him apprised of their progress, though they seemed doubtful when he couldn’t give them any concrete details. He looked at the number and stilled. 

“Dorian?”

He looked up at Felix. “It’s my father.”

Bull reached across the table and took his hand. “I can take it. Felix can take it. No one has to answer it at all. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

Temptation. 

He could hand the phone over. He could turn the ringer off. Not his to deal with, not his to hear. Eventually, Halward had to give up, didn’t he? He was the one that put the boundaries on their relationship with his ultimatum. It seemed foolish for Halward to fault Dorian for doing as he’d asked.

But, maybe silence wasn’t enough. Perhaps Halward needed to hear from Dorian himself that he didn’t want any further contact.

He stood and walked toward his bedroom as he answered the phone. “Father.” 

“Dorian.” His voice was a breath of a whisper.

“Can I help you?” He closed the door, keenly aware that Bull and Felix were listening on the other side.

“I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“And yet you called.” He sat on the bed, on the side facing the window. It helped to be able to see a word outside. With his father’s voice in his ear, the room was too close.

Halward cleared his throat, an unconscionable tell. “I took a chance.”

Dorian could feel the smile splitting his face and he applauded his decision to enter the room alone. If they saw his face, they wouldn’t let him stay on the phone. “Well played.”

“I heard you were in an accident.”

“Yes.” The less he offered, the less Halward could hold against him, could build against him in the future. 

In the background, he could hear one of Halward’s servants offering him more wine. “But you’re doing better?”

“Yes.”

Silence lingered between them, ten seconds. Twenty seconds. A minute.

“Were you planning to say anything? Or did you just call to listen to me breathe?”

There was a huff of breath, not quite a laugh. “I used to, when you were first born. You came early and your lungs weren’t strong. Your mother and I took turns staying up with you during the night to make sure you kept breathing.” He sounded tender, nostalgic. But Dorian never knew what was the truth and what was a lie. Halward Pavus was a master manipulator.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hire someone to do that. Weren’t you new to the Magisterium that year? I can’t imagine it was good for your image to turn up with circles under your eyes.” The phone was hot and hard against his ear, and he curled his free hand into a fist. “You didn’t call to reminisce about my infanthood.”

“I’ve missed the sound of your voice.”

But never the words. Never the person. “I don’t want you to call again.”

“Dorian. Be reasonable.”

He laughed. Laughed and laughed until he had to set the phone aside and press a hand to his chest and the other to his aching head. When he could breathe, he picked up the phone. “I think we’re a little far afield from reasonable, don’t you?”

“If you came home, I’m sure we could work something out.”

Dorian hated that there was a part of him, a horrible little kernel deep inside where he still longed for Halward’s approval, his love, that sparked at the words. But he fought it down, pushed it back. There was only pain there, only more hurt and disappointment. 

Danger. 

“I’m not coming home. Don’t call again.” He hung up the phone and counted it as a win that he didn’t throw it across the room like he had the last, though it took all of his effort.

He waited a moment, powered off his phone and then went out to see to his guests. Neither one of them was particularly subtle about their worry. They hadn’t even bothered to vacate the hallway.

At their unasked question, Dorian waved a hand. “I’ve asked him not to call.”

“If he continues, we can press charges.” Ah, Felix. Always looking for a way to fix things for Dorian. Content to let his own life run its course, content to let that end come, but he would fight for Dorian as needed. It was ridiculous.

“He won’t continue. It’s gauche to intrude into a space where you’ve been asked to leave. And father is very concerned with appearances.”

“He was desperate enough to use blood magic. You think he won’t make another call?” Bull crowded Dorian, just a little, as they moved back out to the table outside the kitchen, the sweet, light mood of the evening broken. Dorian appreciated his closeness. 

“Yes, but that was in private. Behind closed doors, with no audience, Halward can do as he pleases. Exposed before the masses?” Dorian shook his head. “He’ll keep to appearances to save face. How sad would it be if word got around that he was chasing his recalcitrant son across kingdoms? No. I don’t expect to hear from him again.”

Felix led Dorian to his seat while Bull puttered around the table, cleaning up their dinner and then washing the dishes. Bull and Felix tried to keep the conversation going, but Dorian’s head was aching and by the time he had something to say about their anecdotes, they’d already moved on to another topic. 

Felix made his goodbyes and promised to return in the morning with breakfast, leaving Dorian to Bull’s undivided attention.

“I’m sorry I’m not very good company, at the moment.” Or maybe from the first day Dorian met him. His head hurt and everything felt terrible. Even the good things felt terrible.

“You don’t have to entertain me. It’s been a long day. Let’s get you settled for the night.”

Dorian closed his eyes and sighed. It was what he wanted and yet, not. Fear nearly kept him from speaking, but he’d come so far, both physically and emotionally since leaving his home for a chance at what Bull represented. It wasn’t giving into temptation to ask for what he wanted. People did it all the time.

“Could you stay?”

Bull pulled him to his feet. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You would think that moving to another country would be enough of a clear message for Halward, but I guess when you get everything you've ever wanted, it's hard to be told no. Especially by one of those things you wanted. Maybe, if you didn't treat people like things, like disposable things, the world would be a little different.
> 
> I have a lot of feelings about Halward.


	20. And All I Did Was Lie

Dorian spent the rest of the weekend like it was a holiday. He slept late, curled around Bull. They ate breakfast when Felix arrived, and lounged in his living room through the afternoon. He offered to amuse himself, and let Bull and Felix go about their own business, sightseeing and gardening, perhaps, but they both professed a profound desire to sit with him and watch movies. 

Between the two of them he was hardly alone. Bull always asking if he needed something to drink, Felix offering to get him another pillow. They cossetted and coddled him until he was ready to scream. But he bore it, because it was better than being alone. He could see Felix’s face when he laughed at the southern ideal of Tevinter life, he could feel Bull’s heartbeat under his hand.

As the new week rolled around, though, Dorian was more than ready to be doing something. The weekend felt decedent in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time. It wasn’t that he wanted it to keep going, that he needed more day, but that he wanted to preserve the memory, keep it safe and tucked away so he could pull it out whenever he wished at some future time. 

That it put some distance between Dorian and the voice of his father was just another benefit. If he was watching a movie filled with car chases and explosions, if he was arguing with Felix about the best place to eat, if he was listening to Bull tell stories about the weird shit they pulled from the drains on campus, he didn’t have to think about home. How many times would he have to leave home? How many times would have to tell them he was done before the notion stuck?

The walk to work in the morning was strange. It was the same path he’d tread since the day he started, but it felt different somehow. Someone had taken the time to clean the sidewalk at the site of his accident, two slabs of concrete shining white and unmarred while the others had the usual signs of age and wear. He wasn’t sure if it was worse not seeing the evidence of his blood cast along his path or having it so easily erased.

Of course, there’s also the fact that Felix is at his side, demanding tourist type information about the buildings they passed, the history of the College and a million other little details that Dorian didn’t have. He sat through some sort of new hire orientation about the history and mission his first week, but the room had been freezing and his only memory of the hour long lecture was of his hands wrapped around the paper cup of coffee as he tried desperately not to heat the room with a little magic.

“When was that one built?”

“I don’t _know_ , Felix.” The details of the architecture of the dorms wasn’t high on his list of priorities.

“You’re a terrible tour guide.”

Dorian jerked open the door to the library and ushered Felix through. “Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m running the library and not tours, isn’t it?”

Fiona was up on her feet as soon as Dorian crossed the threshold. She looked like she wanted to cross the space between them and hug him. He headed it off by introducing Felix. “Actually, this wonderful woman here runs the library.” He let them exchange names and handshakes, Felix all charm and Fiona all charmed. 

“I need a few moments to get settled and then we can go over what I missed?” He doesn’t want to talk about the accident, doesn’t want her concern or her pity. Bad enough it happened, and happened on campus. He didn’t need more reason for people to gossip.

“About that,” she left the circulation desk and followed him back to his office. “You had quite a few well-wishers and there wasn’t anywhere else to put things, so,” she hovered near his door when it opened to relieve cards and drooping flowers and was that a small bear holding a heart?

He took a spin around the room. “What is this?”

“People were worried.”

The sheer number of things littering his desk and windowsill and filing cabinet were astonishing. Dorian was pretty sure he hadn’t even met that many people since he started working. “I don’t—”

“Now that you’ve seen everything, I can start moving things out. I felt bad getting rid of this before you’d had a chance to take a look.” She ran an efficient circuit around the room, grabbing the vases to clear some space. “I’ll take care of these and put the vases in the breakroom for when you want to take them home.”

Dorian couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he needed five new vases, but he nodded anyway. Maybe someone from the staff would take them home? Or they could give them to their volunteers. 

“I’ll let you get caught up. Let me know if you need anything.”

“You look a little stunned,” Felix said as he went through the room to gather the cards and deposit them in a stack at Dorian’s elbow.

He powered on his computer. The stack of cards was higher than his stack of paperwork. “I didn’t think anyone would care that I was gone.” Once, when Dorian was seventeen, his father locked him in the east wing of the house for three weeks. The only one who noticed was Felix, and even he hadn’t been worried that Dorian had been missing for almost a month.

Felix was quiet, thoughtful for a moment. “Perhaps the south is good for you.”

He wanted to say something about the cold and the smell and the lack of good wine and manners, but they all got caught in his throat. For all the frigid temperatures, the south was far warmer to him than Tevinter had ever been. Or at least, the Skyhold little corner of the south was. Instead he shrugged. “Well, there is something to be said for casual disregard rather than political machinations.” He cleared his throat. “Now that you’ve seen where I work, please feel free to leave me alone. The library is open, except for the third floor and I’m sure the buildings have charming little plaques that can tell you all about their history.”

“You’ll call if you need anything?”

Dorian sighed. “Yes. I will call if I can’t make it through the day.” Both Bull and Felix made him promise that he would leave early if he felt ill. What they didn’t know was that he was fighting a low level headache almost all the time and well was something of a variation on a theme. They would have to drag him from the building on a stretcher before he admitted that he wasn’t ready to be at work.

With Felix off to amuse himself, Dorain began on his backlog of emails, though he had to stop before he was halfway through, as the screen made his eyes ache and his head throb. He switched to physical paper and did marginally better until Bull arrived for his update. But Bull was less interested in walking him through the particulars of construction than he was checking that Dorian was feeling all right.

“If you need a break, you can go rest at my place. Should be quiet enough in the middle of the day. A nap might do you good.”

He gave Bull what he hoped was a withering stare. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, cause you look it.”

“Is that all? Because I’m very behind.” He knew he was being unreasonable, he knew he was verging on behavior that was unforgivable, but being back in his office with tangible evidence of all he missed _for no reason_ made him irritable.

“Suit yourself, big guy. I’m just upstairs if you need anything, though.”

Dorian managed a thanks before Bull left and then he buried himself in more work. At noon he at a sandwich at his desk and took two painkillers. Not the heavy ones the hospital had given him, but the regular over the counter variety that didn’t do much to take the edge of the pain. He had to keep stopping his work, sit back and rest his head against the back of his chair, eyes closed and just breath more and more often.

When someone knocked on his door in the late afternoon, he might have snarled. “What?”

“I heard you were back. How are you doing?” The president slipped into the room, not at all put off by his greeting.

“My apologies.” He touched his temple, already warm and tender from where he’d been rubbing at it. “It’s been more difficult than I expected.”

“Be sure to take the time you need. I’m sure Fiona could continue running things for a few more days.” When Dorian put her off again, she turned to a discussion of business. “Even if we get the money from the grant, it’s not going to come in right away and there’s still so much to be done. I’m sure The Iron Bull has told you that we’ve found more problems with the roof as they’ve worked through repairs. I’ll be bringing potential donors to campus in the coming weeks and I’d like to be able to show them the accessible parts of the library and have you speak with them as well. I know we talked about this before, but I need to make sure you’re still on board.”

“Of course.” He could charm a room full of potential donors half asleep. A headache was nothing to worry about. 

“Beyond physical repairs, they’ll want to know how the library benefits the students and what we could do with additional funding. Can you pull something together? I hope to have the first one lined up to come in a week from tomorrow.”

“How the library benefits the students?” Dorian all but sputtered. “How doesn’t the library benefit student?”

She held up a hand. “You don’t have to sell me, but bring that passion with you. It’s good to see.”

They chatted for a little while longer and then Evelyn got up to leave. “Oh, and we like to have the staff involved with the students. I like it when everyone remembers what we’re here for. Perhaps we could persuade you to teach a class in the spring?” She barely waited for his affirmative before moving on. “And there’s a new club, something about Mage rights, that’s looking for a staff sponsor. You should look into it.” A bright smile on her face, a gentle tone, the words should have sounded like a request but coming from Evelyn, they were more clearly a command.

“I will.”

It wasn’t until she was already out the door that he remembered Bull’s warning to keep an eye on her when she visited. He didn’t see anything missing from his desk, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t taken something. It would just be a while before he found out what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How strange to have to go back to your regular life when all of these things are happening. But Dorian can't stay wrapped up in his bubble forever. It's a shame, because there are some sweet moments in there.


	21. When I Speak I Cross My Fingers

The middle of the week saw Felix’s last day in Skyhold. Alexius’ jet was scheduled to leave in the afternoon so Dorian took the morning to spend with his friend. They ate an expansive and leisurely breakfast at the kind of place Dorian couldn’t afford anymore, taking up far too much time and table space for just the two of them. 

He road with Felix to his hotel room and watched him pack. It was a far less fraught parting than the last time they separated, but it still stung knowing the number of miles that separated them. Phone conversations were all well and good, but it wasn’t the same as seeing him in the flesh. 

“You’re sure we can’t drop you off on our way to the airport?”

Dorian shook his head, feeling like he’d used all of his words over breakfast. The walk from the hotel the College would do him good.

“Because it was your common, pedestrian ways that brought me here in the first place, if you’ll recall.”

“I’ll be fine.”

A last check of the room proved Felix a tidy guest, not a single item missing or out of place. He looked around and drew in a breath. “Well. It’s been so good to see you.” He clasped a hand on Dorian’s shoulder and it took every ounce of Dorian’s willpower not to step into a hug. The south was free with their physical affection, but as close friends as they were, their relationship had never been particularly physical. “Minrathous isn’t the same without you.” He studied Dorian’s face. “But you’ve found some good here, haven’t you?”

He flexed his fingers to keep his emotions in check. “Yes.”

“And I like Bull. He’s good for you.” If there was any part of Felix that had reserves about Bull because he was Qunari, or a man, or working class, not a hint of it showed on his face or in his tone. 

Dorian stepped back, out of range and picked up Felix’s bag. “Give my regards to Alexius, will you?”

“Of course. You know, it wouldn’t kill you to call him by his first name. You’ve seen him hungover, sleeping next to the fountain in the courtyard.”

“Yes, well. One must uphold a certain number of proprieties.” Better not to be overfamiliar. He made that mistake once already and it wasn’t something he would do again. Gone were the days of safety and affection in Alexius’ study. Dorian wasn’t family and it would be better for all involved if Dorian didn’t try to insert himself into other people’s families because his own was lacking. 

They were silent in the elevator ride down, but it was comfortable. Their parting now felt less terrible than it did when he ran away from Tevinter and Alexius’ rage. This was normal, two people moving in different directions from their childhood ambitions. Felix didn’t look so frail and the whole world didn’t seem so dark and ready to crack open at the slightest touch. 

Out in the chill afternoon, Dorian loaded Felix’s bag into the trunk of the waiting car so he had something to do with his hands. Dashing out the door made for much easier goodbyes. 

“Father will be sending out invitations, soon. Do you think you could come?” Felix waited at the open door of the car, his face carefully blank of hope or expectation, though Dorian could feel both. “I could send the jet.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.” The thought of returning home for a party was almost nice. Though he wasn’t as sure about spending so much time with the people likely to attend. “It depends on my schedule here. Obligations, you know.”

Felix didn’t press him further, for which Dorian was grateful. “Take care, my friend. I’ll call when I get in.” He clasped Dorian’s shoulder then slid into the car. 

Dorian stood at the entrance to the hotel, watching the car disappear into the distance for a long time. 

#

The first few days after the accident, Dorian was worried about nightmares. With memories he still couldn’t access, he thought they might come to them in dreams and he’d end up reliving those missing moments while asleep. But his sleep was calm, his dreams the same as they ever were and Dorian was certain it was the warm presence of Bull in his bed that helped. 

When he woke the night that Felix left, Dorian lurched into a upright position, trying to remember the dream that startled him. The usual signs of troubled sleep were missing, he wasn’t sweating, his hands weren’t aching from being clenched, his heart was slow and even in his chest. He didn’t know what startled him. 

Dorian dropped back down on the bed and checked his phone. It was almost three. He had a couple of emails and a text from Felix that he could respond to in the morning. Nothing out of the ordinary. If he went back to sleep, he’d still have about four hours before he had to be up, though there were less before Bull had to be out and on campus. 

He turned into the heat sink of Bull’s body, on the edge of sleep, when Bull jerked. His arm thumped against the bed and he let out a low growl. The sound of his teeth grinding was loud and Dorian winced in sympathy. 

“Bull,” he touched Bull’s shoulder and brought up a ball of light so he wouldn’t have to wake in darkness. 

Bull’s eyes flew open and before Dorian could begin to comfort him, Bull snarled at him, said something in Qunlat that Dorian didn’t recognize. He moved faster than Dorian thought possible. He swiped at the light. With unbelievable strength, he flipped Dorian on his back, the edge of his hand catching Dorian’s mouth. 

The taste of blood. The sudden dark. The sensation of being pinned down. He could touch his magic. Whatever his father had done must have worn off. Maybe Dorian was stronger than Halward expected. It didn’t matter. He cast a series of spells: Mind Blast, Barrier. Anything he could throw out. He scrambled away from his attacker, falling over furniture and other obstacles until his back was pressed into the corner of the room.

His barrier faded and he cast another, and another, and another until his mana was depleted and he was shaking. Had Halward been waiting for him to run out all along?

“Dorian?”

He flinched at the sound of his name in an unfamiliar voice. He tried to cast his barrier again, but it flicked for just three seconds before collapsing. Nausea swept through him. 

“I’m going to turn on the light.”

The sudden brightness burned his eyes. He closed them and then brought up his arm to shield against the light and any sudden blows. 

“Do you know where you are?”

He barked out a laugh, tried to keep his voice even. “Of course I know where I am.” He lowered his arm as his eyes adjusted to the light and found that he was not where he expected. Not Halward’s study. His apartment. His bedroom. 

His bedroom that looked like it had been the center of a battleground. He swore and pushed himself to his feet. “Bull.” Bull was pale, washed out where he stood on the other side of the room. 

“Can I touch you, now?”

Dorian fairly threw himself across the room and into Bull’s arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you hurt? Of course you’re hurt. Here, sit.” He pushed at Bull until he was sitting on the edge of the bed where Dorian could see his face. His eye patch was missing, torn off in their struggle and he looked strangely vulnerable without it. The scar was wide and deep over his missing eye and Dorian ran his fingers over the base of Bull’s horns to avoid touching without permission. “Did I hurt you?”

Bull laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I think we’re both guilty of that.” He brought up a hand to Dorian’s mouth. The faint taste of blood registering again. But he knew where he was and who he was with. There was no surprise. 

The room was a mess, but Dorian didn’t want to deal with it. “Can we lie down?”

Bull nodded. “Just, keep the light on.”

Dorian righted the blankets and pillows enough to climb in and then huddled next to Bull. He felt washed out but still on edge. If he had any mana left, his whole body would have been crackling with electricity. 

“Well, that was awful.”

Dorian hummed in agreement and pressed closer to Bull, whose touch was tentative for the first time. “Should I not wake you, if you’re having a nightmare?”

“It’s probably best. I don’t dream, not really. They’re memories and they’re harder to come out of than a dream. If you’re worried, put some distance between us and call my name. Touch is,” he sighed. “Bad.” He traced Dorian’s swollen lip. “I’m sorry about your mouth.”

“I’m sorry for attacking you.” He swallowed against the sick feeling in his stomach. “I could have really hurt you.” He could have set the whole room on fire.

Bull just wrapped his arms around Dorian and squeezed.

From his angle, he had a much better view of Bull’s scar. “I never asked,” he said as he thought a change of subject might be nice. Neither of them were close to sleep. “How did you lose it?”

Bull shrugged. “It’s not really my story to tell.”

Dorian leaned up on his elbow, tracing the scarred skin. “It’s your eye, how can it not be your story?”

“Ask Krem about it sometime. He was there.”

Silence fell between them. Dorian concentrated on the sound of Bull’s breaths and his slow even heartbeat beneath his ear. “Do you think you can sleep?” The heightened sense of terror had faded leaving Dorian sleepy in Bull’s embrace.

“Not tonight. Have to get up soon, anyway.”

“I’ll make you breakfast.” Though there was no part of Dorian that wanted to move.

Bull ran his hand through Dorian’s hair, massaging the base of his skull and pushing Dorian closer to sleep. “Sure thing, big guy.” He had no right to sound so amused. “I’m good right here until it’s time for me to go.”

“If you’re sure?”

Whatever response Bull made was lost as Dorian dropped off. Bull’s gentle touch lulling him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think one of the hardest parts of writing this has been keeping the chapters contained to a limited number of words. I'm trying to keep a reasonable number that I can write every day, but I'm used to chapters that run twice or three times this length, so everything ends of feeling a little strange. It's good, in a way, keeping me on my writing toes, but also I have to think about how I structure things in a very different way.


	22. Will You Know You've Been Deceived

Dorian finally had a chance to talk to Krem one afternoon later in the week. He stopped by Dorian’s office to drop of some paperwork and Dorian stopped him before he could rush off. “If you have a moment?”

Krem shrugged. “Sure.”

“What happened to Bull’s eye?”

Krem paused in the middle of sitting in the chair across from Dorian. He frowned a little, but took his seat. “I think that’s a question for the chief.”

“He told me to ask you. Said it wasn’t his to tell. But I can’t figure out how something that happened to his eye would be someone else’s story.” Unless Krem was the one who put out Bull’s eye, but that seemed the least likely of all possible solutions.

“Ah. Right. Well, Tevinter a hard place when you’re not a magister or an altus, right?” He drew a breath and leaned back in the chair. “My parents were hardworking Soporati, loved the empire, loved their work. And didn’t have much time for anyone who stepped out of line. They kept putting me in dresses and telling me I’d marry a wealthy man one day, save the family.” He paused, waiting for Dorian to catch up, for the words to make the connection.

Dresses, but. “Oh.”

“Yeah, so I ran off, joined the army.”

Dorian recalled what little he knew of the Tevinter army, filled with bullnecked men looking to prove themselves or make a point. “That seems like, I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s a terrible plan.”

Instead of being offended, Krem laughed. “You’re telling me. But I was young and desperate and I thought if I could just get away, I could start over and no one would be able to tell me what I was supposed to be again.” Krem looked out the window and sighed. “I was good at being a soldier. Really good. If some of the guys hadn’t found out, I’d probably still be there. But they did, like a little bit of physical features makes up a person.”

He leaned back and spread his hands. “We were in a bar, there was a fight and while I’m good in a fight, scrappy, there were five of them and only one of me. Until Bull stepped in. He took a beer bottle to the eye, but he got us out of there offered me a job. He was working at a different school then, up on the Storm Coast. When they offered him this job, he only took it if he got to bring his crew. Skyhold isn’t an army, but it’s a good place. And I’ll take the cold over the constant rain any day.”

Krem sounded like he’d told the story a hundred times, like it was the same as discussing the weather or the plot of a movie. Not his life. Dorian wondered if he would ever get to a place where his own past could sound so practiced and at ease in his mouth. “How do you,” he drew a breath as he tried to figure out how to ask the question.

“We’re having an okay moment here, but if you’re about to ask about my genitals, I’ll let you know now that’s a dick move and none of your fucking business.”

“No. No. Maker, no,” he waved a hand. It was the farthest thing from his thoughts. “How do you just tell people? You make it sound so easy, when it could not have been.”

Krem kept a steady gaze on him, sharper now like he was looking for the secrets Dorian was keeping. Like he could see right through to them. “Practice, mostly. The first couple times were the hardest. It might sound easy, but the worry is always there. It helps to know that Bull sent you to me, it means he trusts you and that I can trust you, if I want.” Krem put on a grin that was meant to be teasing, but had an edge of seriousness to it. “What, you got some big Altus secret nipping at your heels?”

If he wanted, Dorian could have played it off with a joke. Krem left him the room. Instead, Dorain set his shoulders, clenched his hands tight in his lap. “My father tried to use blood magic on me because I’m gay.” His heart was pounding and his hand shaking, even curled up in fists.

Krem weathered the words with grace, though if there was anyone in Skyhold that understood the nuance and meaning behind Dorian’s confession, it would have been Krem. They might have been different classes, but the rules still applied and the horrors of blood magic were universal. “Well, that is some big shit. You all right?” He waited for Dorian to nod. “How many people is that?”

Dorian counted them down. Felix. Cole. Bull. “Four. You’re the fourth.”

“Scary, yeah? That never really goes away, but it gets easier, somehow. Now, I wouldn’t recommend leading with that when you meet new people. Not everyone needs to know, not everyone has a right or reason to know. It’s yours to tell. And it doesn’t make you a bad person because bad things happened to you.”

 _There is nothing wrong with you_. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “So, I just finished the second season of _Misconduct_ and I did not see that coming.”

“Oh, man. Just wait. It gets so much worse.”

#

“How much would it cost to have these books added to the collection?”

Dorian jumped as Cassandra stalked into his office and smacked a list of books down on his desk. There were a handful, all by the same author. “I’d have to check market prices, but not very much.”

She nodded, sharp. “Let me know and I will donate the money myself.”

“All right. They’re kind of an odd choice, though.” He wasn’t sure what to say, but it seemed very important and he didn’t want to upset someone who was close friends with the president.

“We’re striving to educate well-rounded citizens, are we not? They should have access to all manner of materials.” She hesitated and then sat across from him, perched on the edge of the chair. “What do you know about arranging author appearances?”

His mother was a fan of a Nevarran mystery writer. When Dorian was thirteen, she spent an enormous amount of money arranging for him to visit and then throwing a gala in his honor. Somehow he doubted that was how it worked outside of Tevinter. “I can find out. Do you want this,” he looked at the paper. “Varric to come and speak to the students?”

Cassandra launched to her feet. “The students. Yes. Send me a proposal.” And she was gone before he could ask any further questions.

#

“Tell me about The Iron Bull.”

Cole’s couch was less comfortable than it looked. The cushions were too dense and the fabric too scratchy to relax against. At least half of each of Dorian’s appointment was spent plucking at the tiny pills that had rolled up over time. “I said I don’t want to talk about that.”

“ _Felix likes him. Felix has never liked any of the men I associated with_. It’s because they never treated you like you were special.”

“Isn’t it some sort of breach of conduct to peak into the minds of people who aren’t present? How do you even know that?” Had Dorian not been a patient of Cole’s he would have been fascinated by his abilities. On an academic level, they could have been colleagues. As a patient, it was unnerving to be pushed.

“Your hurt touches his _. I wish he could have been happy here. I wish I had known. I wish I could have made him happy._ But he likes women and couldn’t change any more than you could.”

That was an old hurt, and not even a very interesting one. Proximity, time, and hormones meant that when he was a teenager, he was very much enamored of his best friend. But it wasn’t real. “Felix and I would have been terrible together.” Better friends who could take a break than lovers sharing the same space and tripping over each other’s hobbies and experiments.

Cole nodded and wrote something in his notebook. Or looked like he wrote something in his notebook. During one session, when Dorian asked what he was writing, Cole turned the paper around to show a sweet little pastoral scene with a family of rabbits, claiming, “I can remember our conversations without help.” Dorian wasn’t sure if he was comforted or not to know there was no physical record of their time together.

“How does The Iron Bull make you feel?”

Instead of reiterating that he didn’t want to talk, Dorian paused and thought about the question. “It’s not even the longest relationship I’ve ever had. Rilienus and I had sex for two years before he moved.” Rilienus lived in his family’s estate in Minrathous, his parents permanently retired to their summer home near Carastes. For the first time in his adult life, he didn’t have to sneak into someone’s bedroom in the middle of the night. Rilienus’ servants met him at the door, ushered him through to the dining room or the study. Four or five times, he’d stayed the night wrapped up in Rilienus’ arms as tightly as his blankets. But it wasn’t real. They were keeping time until they went off to do their duty. “But I feel like I matter.”

Cole leaned in, his face serious. “Do you think,” he paused. “You could convince The Iron Bull to start feeding the family of rabbits living behind his shed? Only they’re very hungry and afraid of eating his flowers.”

“I’ll mention it, when I see him later.”

“Good. Good.” He leaned back, his intensity drained. “How do you think you make The Iron Bull feel?”

Dorian had been actively avoiding that very question. They were good. They could spend time together without getting on each other’s nerves. The sex was fantastic. It was early still and Dorian didn’t want to start asking questions that could ruin it. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe it’s time to ask that question. That’s our time for the week. Please check in with Sera before you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, impending relationship talks. It's hard not to sympathize with Dorian here, it's never all that much find trying to find out if you're on the same page, emotionally, as a new person you're dating.


	23. Faithfully Dangerous, Lost and Lovely

“Does that feel good?”

Bull’s response was a long, drawn out moan as Dorian pushed his way inside.

Dorian had to stop, overwhelmed not only by the heat and pressure of Bull but also the desire to giggle as Cole’s words echoed back to him. A tiny laugh escaped him before he could stop it and Bull looked up at him, an answering grin already growing on his face. “What?”

“Remind me to tell you later.” He shifted his grip on the back of Bull’s thighs, pulled back and thrust in, the giddiness falling away.

Bull’s head arced back, exposing his throat, so inviting Dorian had to lean down and suck at his pulse point. He bit at the smooth skin, tasting salt. Bull was a solid wall of muscle beneath him, but so open and tender. He had no reservations, pushing into Dorian’s touch, moaning when Dorian touched him, letting Dorian know he appreciated every moment. 

His massive legs were up and open, so that Bull was nearly bent in half and Dorian could turn his head to kiss the sweat slicked flesh of the inside of his knee. Bull let Dorian arrange him, let him move him as he wished to learn Bull’s body and bring him his pleasure. Bull’s cock was straining between them, glorious and full, leaking a little more with every thrust.

Dorian licked a path up to Bull’s mouth, breathing in his short, panted breath. “Touch yourself.” He could feel Bull’s hand ease between them, the rhythmic pull of Bull’s hand as it brushed against Dorian’s stomach. His free hand came up to clutch at the back of Dorian’s neck, pulling them closer together.

“Maker, I could fuck you for hours.” Everything felt good, every tightened muscles, every ache perfect. The too tight grip of Bull’s hand on his neck, the pinprick pain of his nails digging into Dorian’s skin. It was a moment he never wanted to end.

And then Bull clutched him tighter, groaned and his entire body _spasmed_ around Dorian. The convulsion of Bull’s muscles around Dorian’s cock kicked his orgasm out of him, catching him entirely by surprise and it was all he could to stay upright and not collapse onto Bull, crushing him. They shuddered and rocked together, every tiny movement a shock of pleasure.

Eventually, Dorian had enough control of his limbs to pull out and away, rolling toward Bull’s bedside table to pull towels out for the both of them. He collapsed back once he job was done, his pulse still pounding and his body alight.

“It’s later,” Bull said after a little while, his normally robust voice hushed, a pleased, almost drugged out expression on his face.

Dorian’s entire body felt heavy as he traced Bull’s features with his eyes. “Hmmm?”

“You were laughing before.”

A helpless little giggle escaped him again at the words. “I was talking with Cole about you and he asked me to ask you how I made you feel and,” he waved a hand. “I was reminded at a particular moment.”

Instead of joining him in his laughter, Bull was terrifyingly silent. “You’ve talked about us with your therapist?”

Dorian winced and tried not to feel every centimeter of space between their cooling bodies. “No, not really. I mean, he keeps trying to bring you up and I keep telling him I don’t want to talk about it.” He spun the ring on his index finger. His explanation didn’t really sound much better.

“Huh. I thought you were talking about your father.”

Dorian reached down and pulled up the blanket, covering himself to his waist. “We do. But his attention wanders. Did you know you have a family of rabbits living behind your shed? He asked me to ask you if you would feed them.”

“It will only encourage them.”

“Cole will be so disappointed. The man loves rabbits.”

They fell into silence, but Dorian could feel Bull turning over something in his mind. His body was just shy of relaxed and it made Dorian want to get up and start getting his things together. It was early enough that he could walk home through campus without feeling like he’d done something wrong.

“Do you want to know?” Bull said eventually as the silence lingered.

Dorian wanted anything that would break the awkwardness of the moment. “Know what?”

“How you make me feel.”

Was it bad that he didn’t want to know? That was bad, right? “I don’t know,” he closed his eyes in a long blink, hoping that by the time he opened them something would be different. “Yes?”

For a long while there was only the sound of Bull’s even breaths filling the space between them. When he spoke, his voice was soft, matter of fact, as if he was reciting a report of little interest. “We don’t have families or relationships under the Qun the way other races do. We’re taken from the women who birth us and raised by the Tamassarans and then divided into our assigned fields. Sometimes, we make bonds with other Qunari. They’re special to us, but it’s as a shield brother or,” he hummed. “I can’t think of a good word to compare. When we want sex we go get it from the Tamassarans, not from the people around us. There are no families, there is no romance. It makes things less complicated.”

Dorian changed his mind. He didn’t want to hear this, but he couldn’t make his mouth work. The words wouldn’t come to stop the terrible tide. In fact, he couldn’t move at all, captured by the steady cadence of Bull’s words. 

“There’s not much personal choice in the Qun. Excess, luxury, comfort, these are, not forbidden exactly, but they are seen without purpose and the worst thing to be under the Qun is without purpose.” He heaved in a stuttered breath. “It’s kind of bullshit. I left the Qun a long time ago. They made me make a choice, thought they could bring me back in by making me chose between my crew and them. Didn’t work out so well for them. The point is that I like pretty things, and my crew is my family, but it’s hard to remember sometimes when I’ve got this low level chant running in the back of my head all the time about what it means to be Qunari and how I shouldn’t have those things or want those things. Even if I’m not under the Qun anymore.”

Bull sighed. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that,” he paused and Dorian’s whole body froze. He squeezed his eyes shut, certain that Bull was going to make a declaration of love. But it was too soon. Too soon. Dorian didn’t know what he was doing. It was good, but it was too soon. “Being with you makes that constant hum of the Qun a little quieter, a little more distant. Because this, what we have? Is good.”

All of Dorian’s breath left him in a rush. Some of the feeling came back to his extremities. He hadn’t felt the numbness. “It is good.” As the panic left him, he rolled onto his side and moved closer to Bull, resting his head against his shoulder and draping and arm across the wide expanse of his chest. Bull ran his hand down in long, smooth motions over Dorian’s back and sides. 

“Is that why you garden? Because of the Qun?”

“It gives me something to do with my hands. I get to make something grow and the flowers are beautiful when they’re in bloom. I was in Seheron for a long time. I was good at my job, until I wasn’t anymore.” Dorian had heard endless stories about the battles in Seheron. He’d seen the soldiers who came back out, in the markets, hollow men. It was surprisingly hard to imagine Bull there, fighting. Not that he couldn’t see Bull as a fighter, but it was painful to think of him in so much danger.

“They tried to reeducate me, but it didn’t quite stick. They sent me south as a spy, first place I was in someone gave me a little Spider Plant as a welcoming gift. She said they were hard to kill and I took it as a challenge, not just keep it alive, but make it thrive. One plant grew into ten and when I had to leave on my next assignment, there were so many I ended up donating them to a local horticultural society.” He squeezed Dorian in his arms until they were both breathless. “This is the nicest place I’ve had so far, though.”

“I like it here, too.” Despite the cold and the food and the rain. It was better. It was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so this chapter started out as a joke, really. Dorian asking Bull how he feels while they were having sex. And then there were emotions and this is why we can't ever have nice, sweet little scenes because they come to each other with deep history that needs to be explored. It's awesome to write, but so much angst.


	24. So Beautiful to Me

The invitation to Felix’s party arrived in a wide envelope on expensive, creamy paper that was done up in hand-written calligraphy. Dorian had seen wedding invitations that were less ostentatious. When he told Felix as much during their call the next night, Felix laughed, until he coughed.

“Father spent six months testing calligraphers from here to the sea. It was almost shameful, but they did turn out beautifully, didn’t they?”

The cough sounded rough and it was an effort not to ask how Felix was feeling, but he managed. “Any idea who’ll be attending?”

“Oh, you know how it is. We won’t have responses from most everyone until the week of, can’t having us think there aren’t more important matters to attend. Though I know Father sent an invitation to the Archon. How ridiculous.”

Dorian could think of another word to describe it, but Alexius had no filter for danger. Had Dorian been in charge, he wouldn’t have invited a viper into the house. “He could show.” He did sometimes, arrive at events unexpected to keep the Magisterium on their toes.

“Doubtful. We are neither too well known nor unknown for it to make a political impact. Did I tell you we have tailors coming in next week? They’re to make certain our new outfits don’t clash with the new draperies. There are families that do this sort of thing twice a season. It’s exhausting.” He sounded tired.

“Don’t let Alexius wear you out.”

Felix brushed off his concern and turned their conversation to more mundane matters before he was called away. Dorian set his phone aside, unease trapped in his chest. Felix had been cagey on the phone the past few days, so unlike him. Perhaps it was time for Dorian to call Alexius and see if there was anything his friend was leaving out of their discussions. 

“You look worried.” Bull lifted up Dorian’s legs and sat on the couch, setting them back down across his lap.

“It’s probably nothing.” Hard not to overreact when there was nothing that he could do about the situation. He nudged his knee against Bull’s hand and was rewarded when Bull began massaging the muscles of his calves. “Mmmm, that’s nice.”

Bull continued his massage, digging his thumbs into muscles Dorian had no idea were tense. “Have you decided what you’re going to do about the party?”

Dorian leaned back and tried not to lose the languid feeling produced by Bull’s touch. “I don’t imagine I’ll go. There’s a slim chance my father will attend, and even if he doesn’t several of his close associates are bound to be there. I’d prefer to avoid the unpleasantness.” Then there was the matter of Alexius himself. They’d parted on terrible terms and though the invitation came from him, Dorian wasn’t at all sure Alexius wanted him there. Best not to invite trouble. “I’ll send Felix a book instead, something on Ferelden fashion. He’ll love it.”

Bull moved on to his other leg. “How was the meeting with your group?”

On Evelyn’s order, he’d taken up as advisor to a small club determined to petition for Mage rights. Their leader was a bright-eyed Ferelden and, much like everyone else in the group, saw the issues mostly in simple, stark terms. The Circles were bad, freeing mages was good. And they thought a letter writing campaign and some rallies were going to make a difference. When the mages who’d literally blown up a building hadn’t been able to get as much traction. He sighed. “It was interesting.”

“You mocked them for their beliefs,” Bull’s chuckle rumbled through his chest and Dorian could feel its echo all the way up his legs. “You mocked them and then told them you didn’t agree with them.”

Dorian shifted a little. “Mock is a strong word. I implied that the situation is multifaceted and more study should be in their future.” He pinched his eyes, the distant flutter of a headache edged along his temples. “They wanted to discuss running a bake sale. I’m sure the five sovereigns they raise will be very helpful for the countless Ferelden Tranquil.” 

“You have to admit, it’s not unreasonable for them to assume you’d be in favor of mage rights.”

“It’s not mage rights I have a problem with. It’s seeing the issue as either free mages or caged ones. You know what Tevinter is like,” Seheron was a prime example. “Too much power in the hands of any person without limits is dangerous.” He thought of the older children he’d bullied as a child because he was faster and stronger and better than they were. Given a different set of circumstances, he could have grown to be a terrible man. “But then Ferelden Circles are more about fear and control than anything else. Talk to Cullen sometime about his years as a Templar. His whole body changes when he thinks about it, and he was one of the people in a position of power.” He shuddered. It didn’t bear thinking about what kind of life he’d have if he’d been born in Ferelden. “What about you? I heard there was a confrontation between some students and one of your people.”

Bull’s fingers are suddenly sharper, not quiet painful. “It happens sometimes. Kids from rich families, or just kids feeling their first taste of entitlement. Think because my people clean their bathrooms they’re somehow better. Or that they can leave whatever mess they want for my people to take care of. It’s in the contract they sign for housing: they make a mess, they clean it up. Not my fault they don’t read what they sign. I had to go stand around in a room to look intimidating until they stopped whining about their parents and their money and picked up a mop.” The pressure eased back to normal levels. “Word’ll spread, shouldn’t have to do it again this term.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. Dorian checked the news on his phone while Bull continued to massage Dorian’s legs. His touch was firm and careful at the same time. So strange to be touched without it obviously leading to sex. It seemed as if Bull was touching him because he enjoyed it, not because he expected something from Dorian in the very near future.

“I could go with you.”

Dorian set his phone down. “Hmmm?”

“To the party. It’d probably be easier to handle so many people if you knew there was someone there who had your back.”

The very thought is shocking. Dorian didn’t know what to say. There was an appeal to showing up with Bull on his arm, moving through the rooms of Alexius’ estate as he had before he left Tevinter. Only, Bull would be with him. He’d have someone to share his snide comments with, and someone who wouldn’t care about upsetting the political agenda of the evening. He could swan in and out, leaving the rumors to swirl in his wake without the same repercussions he’d have had to deal with if he’d still been living there. 

But more than that, more than the idea of attending a gala with someone who actually cared for him was the idea that Bull seemed to expect that he would still be there. The party was months away. Wasn’t there some kind of taboo about committing to a future engagement so early in a relationship? He honestly couldn’t recall. 

“Don’t twist yourself up in knots about it,” Bull smoothed his hands over Dorian’s legs. “It’s just a thought. Guess I can see how it would be more stressful to have me there with you.” He shrugged, and seemed not at all concerned, not at all understanding of what was going on in Dorian’s thoughts.

“It’s not until the spring term. Wouldn’t you have duties here that would keep you?” He was proud of how he sounded. Cool, interested, not at all overwhelmed. 

“I mean, four months is plenty of notice.”

Four months seemed like such an impassible gulf of time. Four months previous had seen Dorian in entirely different circumstances, in an entirely different city. Anything could happen in four months.

On the other hand: anything could happen in four months. Including good things. “I’ll think on it.”

“You do that.” He smacked a light hand on Dorian’s thigh. “You staying the night or should I drive you home?”

“I’d like to stay, but I’m out of clothes.” It was a shame, he was comfortable sprawled out on Bull’s couch, languid under his touch. “I can walk.”

Instead of arguing the point, as he normally did, Bull shifted and cleared his throat. “I, uh. I washed some of the things you left. If that’s all that’s worrying you.”

Dorian sat up, swung his legs onto the floor, and grabbed Bull’s face between his hands. “You impossible man.” He kissed him. “You’re too good.”

“I think your measure for good is a little biased,” Bull said, but he leaned into the kiss. “I also bought that soap you like.”

It was an effort not to clutch at Bull’s face at the confession. He tried to keep his touch and his tone light, though he didn’t think there was anyone who’d ever done something quite so thoughtful. It was a small gesture, but so intensely personal. “You spoil me.”

“Anything for my good boy.” And he says it like it's the easiest thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie. I am not only a sucker for hurt/comfort, but also for little, quiet slice of life moments. I love watching characters who run around saving the world do small stuff like have breakfast together or go to the park. It makes me so happy when they get a break to be normal people.


	25. Worn from Walking this Far

The following week saw the first potential donor for the library to visit the College. Thom Rainier was a lumberjack of a man, big with a ridiculous beard and a lot of money to spend. The way he sat, the way he watched the people in room made Dorian think he was sitting on some secret, and that his donation was a balm to soothe something he’d done in his past. 

He and Dorian hated each other on sight.

Dorian ran through his prepared speech, handed out papers and flipped through his presentation with ease. Standing at the head of a room filled with twelve people asking for money was nothing compared to standing before the Circle with magic, madness, and power on the line. It was particularly easy when he was asking for was funding of something as simple and basic as a roof.

Rainier was not impressed. Judging from his attire, the man probably grew up in the wilderness and considered indoor living a luxury. “And how can I be assured that the funds will be used as you say? Magisters are not known for their honesty.”

The President leaned forward. “Messere Rainier I don’t believe that’s necessary.”

Dorian leaned back on his heels and tilted his head toward Rainier. “No, please. Do go on. What is it you think I’ll do with your money? Use it to buy children so that I may eat them?”

“It’s my experience that there is some truth in most rumor.” 

He clicked through his presentation to the budget chart. “As you can see, any discretionary funds will go toward books and technology improvement. Only after those needs have been met will I begin murdering children.” He kept his tone light and his body language relaxed, though he was seething on the inside. He’d dealt with men like Rainier before, men with more wealth and power than the little man in front of him and it did not do to let them see the hurt. “Pledge to the school or not. Giving us your money will not ease whatever it is that is eating away at your conscience. Good day.”

It was rude, beyond rude, to leave the meeting, but it was better than staying and provoking the man further. He went back to his office and waited, pretending work. He was sure that he would be fired by the end of the day, if not sooner. Insulting potential donors had to be a breach of some part of his contract.

The president came to see him an hour later. “It’s nice of you to come fire me, yourself.”

She sighed and took a seat. “I’m not going to fire you. Leliana thinks I should, but I think it’s bad form to fire people who’ve been insulted because of where they’re from. I don’t appreciate my people being attacked.”

Dorian shrugged. “I’ve heard worse.” And from people who actually mattered. “How much did he give us?”

She sat forward, hands clasped between her knees, keen interest on her face. “How did you know he’d agree?”

“Men like Rainier are all the same. They don’t want someone to roll over and tell them how good they are. They want to be challenged so _they_ can tell _you_ how good they are. He’s donating in spite of my rudeness. It makes him feel powerful.”

“I should have you in more of my meetings. His people will send us the paperwork to make it official, but he’s pledged two hundred thousand. It’s enough to get most of the work done, but we’ll still need to meet with a few more donors. If you can manage not to call them smelly plebeians to their faces.”

“I never called him smelly.”

#

Dorian spent the rest of the week plagued with bad dreams. Sometimes they were faceless, meaningless landscapes that filled him with unease. Sometimes they were the not so clever reenactment of the blood ritual. When he did manage to sleep beyond the dreams, every noise in his apartment or Bull’s house made him jerk awake. It left him on edge during the day and ready for sleep long before the sun had set. 

So, when the phone rang in the middle of the night, Dorian both assumed it was Bull’s and was annoyed for his dreamless sleep’s interruption. It was always Bull’s in the middle of the night. Of course on the first night he was getting some rest, there would be an emergency on campus. 

He pushed at Bull’s shoulder. “Answer your phone.” He wanted to go back to sleep, gather the last few hours he had in front of him. 

“That’s not my ringtone.” Bull sat up and reached across Dorian to grab Dorian’s phone from the bedside table. He pushed it into Dorian’s hand and then flopped back down on the mattress. 

He didn’t recognize the number, but it was from Tevinter. He stared at the screen, in a few seconds the decision to answer would be out of his hands. Though he’d told his father to stop contacting him, perhaps Aquinea had not been persuaded. Did she not know how time zones worked? Or perhaps she wanted to catch him off guard. It was so very like his mother.

Bull twined their fingers together, but didn’t offer his advice on whether to answer.

He cleared his throat to wipe traces of sleep from his voice. “Hello?”

“Dorian?” 

He was prepared for Aquinea, or possibly Halward. Maybe a wrong number. Not Alexius, sounding tired and wrecked. Dorian clutched at Bull’s hand hard enough he had to be hurting him. He sat up, felt dizzy and lightheaded and had to lie back down. He was barely able to scrape out Alexius name from his numb mouth. 

“Dorian.” Just his name again and Dorian couldn’t listen to him any longer. He couldn’t stop the whine that started in his chest and worked up his throat, his eyes closed so hard his face hurt.

Bull took the phone from Dorian’s hand, pried it from his frozen fingers, and took over the call. He kept a steady hand on Dorian’s chest, almost petting him, and it was all that kept Dorian from floating away. 

They had just talked. He had just talked to Felix that night. Felix said he was fine. He promised.

“All right. I’m going to go now. I’ll tell him.” Bull’s voice was closer, soothing, in control. All of the things Dorian couldn’t manage. He didn’t want Bull to tell him in calm, even tones that Felix was dead. He didn’t need the confirmation. He covered his face with the crook of his elbow, hoping Bull would understand as he understood so many of the things Dorian couldn’t say out loud. 

“First off, Alexius apologized for calling so late. He wasn’t thinking.”

“Please,” he whispered. It was all he could manage, when what he wanted to say was please stop talking, please don’t tell me, please don’t say it out loud.

“Oh, shit. No, that was a bad first thing. Let me do it over.” Bull shifted on the bed until both hands were on Dorian’s chest. “First thing: Felix is fine. Felix is okay.”

He gasped in a breath and then another when he still felt like he wasn’t getting enough air. “What?” His chest heaved trying to get oxygen to his lungs and brain but it wasn’t working. Bull pulled Dorian’s arm away from his face, his touch so, so gentle. The tears that he didn’t know were there, the tears blocked by his arm, ran down the sides of his face to collect at his temple and ran uncomfortably into his ears. “What?”

Bull loomed in closer but in the dim light of the room, Dorian still couldn’t see his face. Nothing felt real, except that he couldn’t get enough air. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. We’re okay. Breathe with me, nice and slow. You’re all right.” Bull exaggerated his breathing, loud and full, as Dorian tried to match it. 

The twin points of contact on his chest from Bull’s hands helped. Instead of making him feel trapped, he felt safe, centered. The tightness in his chest eased and he could draw in a regular breath without feeling overwhelmed. 

“Good. Good job. Can you sit up for me? Or do you want to stay down?” Bull kept both hands on him as he lurched up. The room still spun, but it wasn’t as drastic as before. “You going to be okay if I go get you some water?”

He nodded. Bull slipped away and Dorian wished he’d told him no. He wanted Bull’s hands on him. Everything felt weightless and sideways without his touch. But Bull returned a few moments later, flicked the light on, and pressed a glass into Dorian’s shaking hand. He held on long enough to ensure that Dorian wouldn’t dump it all over himself and then sat at his side. 

The water was fresh in his mouth, and cooled a trail all the way down to his stomach. He wanted to ask, but he was afraid he’d misheard Bull, or flat-out made up the interaction to cover the news he didn’t want to hear. But hiding never made anything better. And it was better to know if he was misremembering things so strongly. “What did Alexius have to say?”

“Felix is fine.”

The words had the same impact the second time around and Bull had to reach out to catch the glass before it fell from Dorian’s hand to shatter on the ground. He bent over, his face crushed against his up-drawn knees.

“Alexius didn’t realize it was so late. Felix went in for a procedure and the healers think they have the blight contained. Something new, it doesn’t rid the taint from his body, but it contains it. Indefinitely, they think. He wanted you to know.”

It was the best news. It was the best possible of all news about Felix, but Dorian couldn’t stop crying, huge gulping sobs, his hands twisted into fists at his side. He didn’t know why he couldn’t stop.

Bull weathered his breakdown, one hand on the back of Dorian’s neck, the other on his knee. Words of reassurance, words of comfort all layered together, meaningless until they started to make sense and that was when Dorian started to apologize, horrified at his outburst. He wiped his face, straightened the blankets around him. He was cold, shivering, even though it was perfectly warm inside Bull’s house. “I’m so sorry. You have to work so soon. We can go back to sleep. I can go to my apartment if it’ll be easier for you to sleep.”

“Dorian.” Bull squeezed his hand at the back of Dorian’s neck. “Everything is fine. I’m not upset, we’re good. We can lie down if you want to rest, or we can stay up.” He pulled the blankets up in easy reach.

“Maker, I don’t know what that was.” He imagined his reaction would have been much the same had Alexius called for the reason Dorian assumed. “Who calls with good news and sounds so terrible?”

“Vints?”

It was meant to be funny, but Bull’s dry tone struck him as hilarious and he switched from tears to hysterical laughter. Bull’s presence stayed steady and calm, one hand on Dorian at all times as his shoulders shook and he tried and tried to get himself under control. “How are you still here?” Relationships, the ones not prearranged and determined by bloodlines and power, were supposed to be fun and easy. Everything since the first day had been difficult.

“Well, it is my house.”

“Don’t be like that. You know what I mean.”

Bull sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say, here, big guy. It’s not really my thing to leave as soon as things get hard. In fact, it’s kind of my thing to stay years past my welcome.” He sounded tired and Dorian regretted his question.

“Never mind. Can we just, can we try to get some sleep?”

Bull got up and turned off the light. He put away the glass and pulled Dorian close when he crawled into bed. Neither of them slept, but Bull ran his hands over Dorian’s arms and across his chest and in a hushed whisper, Dorian told Bull about the summer he and Felix spent trying to start a political war between the families that bordered Felix’s estate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't really think I'd let anything bad happen to Felix, right? I'm not going to work him into a story just to kill him off. If I wanted that, I could go watch the cut scene where Dorian gets the letter. No thanks.


	26. So Worn from Talking This Much

More often than not, Dorian worked through his lunch break, eating at his desk and taking the time to catch up on email or reports or questions from other members of the staff. The day after Alexius’ phone call, he took it for himself, closed the door and called Felix.

“So, I hear Father didn’t handle the call very well.” He sounded tired, weak, but very much alive. “He was so relieved that it worked, he wanted you to know and didn’t think how it might come across.”

Dorian couldn’t bring himself to laugh or make light of it. The fear and gut punching sorrow were still too real, he could feel them sitting just under his heart. “He gave me quite a scare.”

“Yes, I’ve told him to lead with, ‘Everyone is fine’ if he wants to prevent a similar reaction.”

“That’s probably best.” He got up from his desk and walked to the window, watching a small herd of students walk from the cafeteria past the library. “How are you feeling?”

“I think I’d be better if everyone stopped asking me that.” Felix cleared his throat. “Sorry, that was unkind. I’m tired. The spell to contain the sickness took a long time to cast. They think I’ll be tired for a while as my body adjusts to the shield containing the sickness. It’s not so bad. Better than dying.”

Dorian clenched his fist and pushed it against the glass of his window until the bones ached under the pressure. He drew deep, slow breaths. Eventually, he could speak. “That’s good.”

“Tell me about the College. Are you making trouble?”

“I’d rather hear about you.” He didn’t think he could talk his way through the meaningless details of his week when he had Felix on the phone. Felix, who was alive when there was a short time he’d been completely sure he’d never speak to him again.

“Dorian.” He sounded sad.

“Just, please. I’ll tell you all about my pointless day some other time. Don’t make me say it.” _I thought I lost you._

For a moment, Dorian thought either Felix would make him speak his worry aloud, or that he wouldn’t humor his request. Instead Felix sighed like Dorian was the most trying man in either country. Dorian had no doubt that was true. “The food here is terrible, and they wake me up to ask me how I’m resting.”

#

“So, we’re going to be closing the library starting Monday. They have a place set up for you to work?” Krem was in Dorian’s office going over updates while Bull was out dealing with contractors.

“They carved out a space for me in the president’s building.” Josephine had spent almost an hour with him earlier in the week going over the offices that were available. She seemed very intent on making sure that he would be comfortable for the handful of days he would be out of his office. As long as he had access to a computer and a phone, Dorian didn’t much care, but she took a particular delight in organizing it for him.

“Ha, I guess that means you’ll have to do real work for a couple of days. If the president can walk in at any moment, you can’t spend all your time reading books.”

“I do real work.”

Krem looked around the office, real slow. “If you say so.”

The break from paperwork was a welcome relief, even if Krem could be a little condescending. Regardless, Dorian wasn’t ready to be faced with the blank walls of his office for company so soon. “How are things with you and Lace?”

Krem leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. The two of you are worse than high schoolers. The first years have better game that you do. I thought you were smooth.”

“I am smooth.”

Dorian looked him over, arched an eyebrow. “I’ve seen you together. That is not smooth.”

Krem slouched down in the chair, his head resting against the back as he contemplated the ceiling. “She won’t date people she works with. For every fairy tale ending like the president and Josie, you get ten couples who crash out in really spectacular ways.” Krem peered at him, seeming to realize his word choice. “Not that you and the chief have anything to worry about.”

“Of course.” It was a worry Dorian didn’t let himself think about. “Go on.” 

“She says the worst part is that they still have to work with each other and everyone knows what happened. She’s been very, uh, vocal about it.”

“Past experience, do you think?”

Krem shrugged. “She won’t say.”

“I guess you have to respect that. Have you thought about getting a new job?” He meant it as a joke, but a slow, faint flush ran up Krem’s neck. “No. No, really? But you love this job.” Anyone could tell just by watching the way Krem worked, how he moved on campus, interacted with the students and staff that he loved working at Skyhold. 

“I mean, yeah, it’s a great gig, but there’s got to be other stuff I like just as much. At least, I think so.” He heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. It’d be easier if she didn’t like me at all. Then I could just move on, you know?”

Dorian was intimately acquainted with lusting after people who had no interest in him, or who couldn’t return his affection. “What a mess.”

“Yeah.” He checked the time and stood. “I have to get back. Thanks for the talk. Take care.” His shoulders were slumped as he walked out of the office and Dorian was pretty sure Krem didn’t feel better for the conversation.

When he told Bull about it that night over dinner at Bull’s little table, Bull shook his head. “Stay out of it,” he said around a mouthful of noodles.

“But if Lace knew that Krem was thinking about leaving his job just so she would go out with him, she might change her mind.”

“Stay out of it. It’s not your place to change her mind. And Krem has to do what’s best for him. This isn’t the kind of thing that gets worked out by other people.” Bull was taking the news about Krem’s thoughts of defection better than Dorian expected. He wondered if they’d already talked about it, or if it was one of those things that Bull seemed to understand about the people around him. He could dig into people’s thoughts almost as well as Cole. 

“But I want to help.”

“Then stay out of it. You can’t fix other people’s shit. But you can make it worse by poking your nose in.” He finished his food and collected their plates. On the counter in the kitchen there was a bag of carrots and a bundle of clover. Dorian moved them to the side and then pushed himself up to sit on the counter as Bull cleaned up the dishes and organized his breakfast and lunch for the following day. Whenever Dorian stayed over, he loved watching Bull move through his routine for the night, prepping the following day, tidying his space. Before they went to sleep, he’d sweep the house, checking doors and windows until the whole house was secure. 

“What’s this?” He poked at the carrots.

Bull turned away to load this dishwasher. “That? Nothing.” But he sounded cagey. Almost embarrassed.

“Are they for your lunch? I could cut them up for you.” He liked to help, would have been happy to take over an item or two on Bull’s list of things to do, but Bull said that doing the same thing every night helped keep him focused and relaxed. And he didn’t want Dorian to feel like Bull was putting him to work. Still, Dorian liked to offer, even if he knew he’d be turned down.

“They’re not for my lunch.”

“Then what are they?” He gasped. Bull’s shoulders hunched a little, confirming Dorian’s suspicion. “You’re feeding the rabbits. The ones living behind the shed.” 

“She’s got five babies back there.”

Dorian hopped off the counter and cross the room to wrap his arms around Bull’s waist and press his face into the middle of Bull’s back. “You don’t have to justify it to me. I think it’s wonderful.” What a soft touch Bull could be. Dorian kissed Bull’s spine. “You big marshmallow.”

“Hey, now.”

“Don’t deny it. You’re a ball of fluff. You fall apart in the face of baby animals.” He squeezed Bull tight. “Don’t ever change.” Cole was going to be so pleased.

“I couldn’t just let them starve.”

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, we are so close to the end, now! It's so close I can taste it. Thanks again to everyone who has been so amazing during this process, my regular readers, everyone who commented and kudo'd. It's been lovely and really I couldn't ask for more.
> 
> So, just a few more chapters (maybe five?) to come and we can all put this to bed XD


	27. Many Days You Have Lingered Around My Cabin Door

Within the first two hours of work, tucked away in his temporary office, Dorian regretted his nonchalant attitude with Josie about the move. Stuck in the interior of the building, he had no window and because he was right next to the bathroom, there was a constant flow of foot traffic outside his door that was too distracting to allow him to leave it open. It was also cold. The heat on his floor was broken and he was back to sitting at a desk with his coat over his legs. 

The only benefit to the cramped little office was that it was one floor down from the president’s conference room. He had two presentations scheduled the same day for potential donors and appreciated that the distance was a flight of stairs instead of a trek across the whole campus. 

His morning presentation was a short pitch to a business conglomerate that just wanted to be able to run some PR about how much they cared about education. Dorian could have told them they intended to spend all of their money buying ice cream for the students and they would not have cared. They just wanted a little plaque on a room in the library and bragging rights in their next newsletter. When he returned to his borrowed office, Bull was seated behind the desk, his feet up and his hands linked behind his head. “Nice place you got here.”

Dorian dropped his stack of papers on the corner of the desk and leaned in for a kiss. Bull’s cheek was delightfully warm against his nose. “I don’t suppose you can do anything about the heat?”

“I’ve got some of my boys working on it now, but I don’t think it’s going to be fixed by the time you’re back to your regular space.” He rose so Dorian could sit, but instead of moving away, he perched on the edge of the desk, looming over Dorian. “I could probably dig up a heater for you, but the odds are good it’d blow the circuits on this floor if you plugged it on.”

“Perhaps I should be asking for money for infrastructure instead of books.” He took advantage of Bull’s proximity to lean into him for the warmth.

“Nah, it’s part of a five year plan. Get your books.” Bull’s hands settled on the back of Dorian’s neck and on his shoulder. “I missed you last night.”

Dorian had as well. His bed felt too big and the scent of Bull lingering on the extra pillow only served to highlight his absence instead of comforting Dorian. He thought he was being ridiculous to miss him, when they’d spent the day together. “Me too.”

“Do you want to have lunch together?” Bull leaned down, his voice a purr in Dorian’s ear. “We could go back to the house and I’ll make you something.”

A thrill ran through Dorian at the idea of slipping away during the work day. More than lunch was clearly on offer. “I’d like that. I should be done by one, one-thirty.”

“I’ll meet you here.” He went to stand, but Dorian reached up to grab the collar of his shirt and drag him down for a proper kiss. The hot slide of his lips against Bull’s became his sole focus. Dorian bit at Bull’s bottom lip, holding it between his teeth to hear Bull moan in response.

“Keep this up and I’m not going to be able to go.”

Dorian grinned and smacked his ass as Bull turned away. “Go on. I’ll see you this afternoon.” He watched Bull leave, appreciating the way he moved in the small space, like he was aware of every bit of furniture and could have used any of it as a weapon. He shook his head, trying to clear the lingering thought of Bull.

For the first time in weeks Dorian had a few hours to himself that didn’t require immediate attention to library details. He had his regular round of emails and paperwork, but he had a better handle on how to deal with it. He knew he could put it off until the afternoon and still have it finished by the time he left for the day. 

He could finally work on what he came to Skyhold to do. During his interview process, Evelyn had promised there would be time built into his schedule for him explore magical research. Though not a college for magic, Evelyn was hoping to attract mages in the coming years and to develop a course in magical studies. Having Dorian on staff, publishing his findings and building space into the staff and faculty for mages were the first steps in the process. 

His personal laptop had the majority of his notes, but Dorian also had a stack of handwritten journals on the intricacies of time magic and the uses thereof. He hadn’t looked at the research since he left Tevinter, even in his free time. Holding the journals in his hand, a physical, tangible reminder of his failure to save Felix had been too painful. 

With Felix doing well and on the way to some kind of cure, Dorian could flip through the pages of his work and feel something other than misery. He could see the desperation in his handwriting, in the minute mistakes in the glyphs. His shaky penmanship was a testament to too little sleep and too much fear. The distance provided by time and miles meant he could come at the research with a clear eye and perhaps make some headway.

He still believed that the magic was dangerous. The spells were intensely complicated and required unbelievable amounts of power. Far better that they never see the light of day. But the initial research was already in the hands of the Circle in Minrathous for anyone poke at. Better that if it was a problem that could be solved, Dorian was the one to puzzle it out. He could hopefully find a way to safeguard the work. In the hands of some fresh-faced, too ambitious child of a Magister trying to make a mark, it could be catastrophic.

First thing: he opened a drawer to his borrowed desk and dumped the old journals out of sight. It was better to start fresh, come at the problem with rested eyes than pick through old work and perhaps fall into the same mistakes without intention. He opened a new document on his laptop and wrote down everything he wanted to accomplish with time magic. How it should be used, the restrictions to area and length of time. Was it even possible for a person to move forward, or only back? 

Without the pressure of a dying friend and a mourning mentor, the work was contemplative. It was a joy, the way magic had been as a child, free and easy. He could remember standing in the courtyard setting small fires on the surface of the fountain to watch them drown in the wake of restless water. Father insisted that he not practice fire in the house without supervision, but Aquinea had been the one to find the compromise in the fountain. Dorian could make as many fires as he wanted and the water was there to keep him from setting the drapes alight.

He was so deep in his work that when his reminder for the meeting sounded, he started in his seat, trying to remember for a moment where he was and why he was being interrupted. But the cold little room came back to him with a jolt. He saved his progress, already pages and pages of notes, and gathered his things for the next presentation. 

Down the flight of stairs, passed the strange array of paintings, Dorian stopped to check in with the president. She was also prepping to move into the conference room, energy upbeat from their earlier success. “I hope this meeting goes as well as the last,” she said, tugging down the hem of her jacket. “I had Lace set them up with some coffee and a light lunch, so they should be docile for your presentation.”

Dorian hummed. He didn’t love the idea of talking to a room full of chewing mouths, but people did tend to be more agreeable when they were fed. “Of course, I hardly need the help.”

“Moreso, this time since they’re from Tevinter.”

Dorian paused in the doorway. “Tevinter? That wasn’t in the briefing material.” Josie crafted long, detailed profiles for their potential investors and that was the kind of information that would have stuck out to Dorian.

“Apparently, they like to keep that information quiet. It makes it easier for them to do business in Ferelden.”

As they crossed to the conference room, Dorian tried to shake the sense of uneasiness that settled in his chest. Instead of making it an easier pitch, depending on their class and their family, investors from Tevinter could be harder to sell than anyone. If they knew of the trouble with his family, if they had any connection to his parents at all, it would be a waste of time and an explanation Dorian didn’t relish giving to the president.

He held the door open for the president, heard her offer a pleasant greeting and then stepped in behind her. At the table were four older men he didn’t recognize, in crisp suits that cost more than his operating budget for a month. And at the head of the table. At the head of the table sat Halward fucking Pavus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da!
> 
> I've been waiting and waiting and waiting to get here. Welcome to the party papa Pavus. Everyone hates you.


	28. Hard Times Come Again No More

It took every ounce of Dorian’s control not to put up a Barrier and ready himself for a fight. Letters, phone calls, messages passed between common acquaintances, but Dorian had not seen Halward since the night he tried to change him. Dorian didn’t want to appear afraid and had no desire for Halward to know that just the sight of him made Dorian’s stomach roil.

For his part, Halward looked worn. Older than the few years since they’d seen each other warranted. He stared at Dorian, his face edged in hope, but also the way a man would look at his prized possession returned to him. 

“If you’ll excuse us, messeres.” Dorian executed a perfect half bow. “A word, if you please, President Trevelyan.” He hooked his hand through her elbow and led her back to her office. He closed the door with deliberate care and drew in several deep breaths. “I don’t mean to be accusatory, but did you know?”

“Know what? Why did you pull us out of the room?” Her face was pinched in a frown and she crossed her arms over her chest. 

Annoyance, but not guile. Part of the tension he was carrying fell. “The man at the head of the table is my father.”

Evelyn began flipping through her notes. “No. There was no Pavus listed among the visitors. He introduced himself as Messere Halward.”

It was almost enough to make him laugh had it not made him sick, the juvenile cloak and dagger lengths Halward had gone to so that they would be in the same room. “His given name.” He didn’t run his hand over his face or through his hair. When he went back into the room, he didn’t want any physical sign of his distress. “We have a difficult history. Had his name been with the dossier, I wouldn’t have come.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “I can run the meeting. Your presentation is quite efficient. There’s no need for you to be in the room.” She looked toward the door in the direction of the conference room. “Or is there a point in running the meeting at all. If he’s here under false pretenses, then is their offer for sponsorship even genuine?”

“The corporation is genuine, Josephine was able to determine its veracity. And like most in Tevinter, Halward was always good at separating business from personal matters. But more importantly, he won’t agree to give us the money if I’m not in the room.” 

But Evelyn shook her head and moved around behind her desk. “Then we don’t need the money. I can call Cullen right now and have him escort them from campus.”

His skin felt itchy with just the thought that Halward was so close. He wanted to scratch at his arms and throat, but instead tightened his hands into fists. Without windows, he could go back to his office and hide until they were gone. There was no reason for Dorian to see him again.

But Halward would know that he ran. He would know that Dorian was afraid to be in the same room with him. Without Dorian to tell him to his face to leave him alone, he would keep trying. If the letters and the phone calls had not been clear enough, that he was in Ferelden just a few steps away showed he was serious. Dorian hadn’t asked for anything from Halward since he left. Halward probably thought it would put him in his place, make him feel less to ask now, but it was for his job, for the library. Dorian could separate business and personal just as well. “No, let’s go do the presentation.”

“Are you sure?”

He wasn’t, but that didn’t matter. It needed to be done. “Yes.” He sounded far more confident than he felt and that was good. Dorian straightened his spine, tilted his chin up and held the door for Evelyn. Back in the conference room, he gifted them with his best smile. “Apologies, messeres. If you’ll open your packets, we can begin.” 

It wasn’t surprising as the lights dimmed for his PowerPoint that Dorian felt the phantom burn of a knife on the inside of his arms, or that the taste of blood tripped in his mouth. He ran through their plans for expanded library materials, better technology for the students, and a series of proposed programs to bring speakers and exhibits to the library.

Dorian was careful to make eye contact with everyone in the room, including Halward. His father looked like he wanted to interrupt the pitch with questions, but Dorian ran right along with hardly a pause. There was nowhere for Halward to break in without appearing rude.

When he finished, he stared down at his father, daring him to air their personal matter in front of so many strangers. “Any questions?”

“What assurance do we have that once we sponsor this project that you will see through your duty to the library.” 

Dorian had a brief, but vivid fantasy of taking Evelyn’s coffee mug and hurling it at his father’s face. Instead, he pointed to the packet. “Page sixteen of your information packet details the rights and responsibilities of the College. The paperwork drawn up around the donation would reflect the commitment of the College to seeing the project through to the end.”

They stared at each other until Evelyn broke the uncomfortable moment by standing. “I hate to cut this short, messeres, but we have another appointment to keep. If you have further questions, please feel free to forward them to my office and I’ll be happy to help.” She held out her arm. “Dorian.”

He gave her a little bow, grateful for the opportunity to escape and left the room at a slow and sedate pace. In the hallway, just steps from the freedom of Evelyn’s office, his father’s voice stopped him with just the sound of his name. 

Dorian turned. “Father.”

He looked pained. “Must we do this in a hallway?”

“I was trying not to do it at all. I asked you to leave me alone.”

“You asked me not to call.”

Dorian frowned. “Clever.”

“Should I call Cullen?” Evelyn asked, her voice pitched low enough for his ears alone. 

“That won’t be necessary. You won’t cause a scene, will you?” He directed the question to Halward and was pleased to see a flicker of embarrassment cross his face. “We can go to my office.”

“Would you prefer mine?”

He shook his head at the offer. “No, thank you.” The silence between them was thick, and cracked along the edges with suppressed anger and magic. He opened the door to his office, thankful that Bull had not yet arrived, and motioned his father inside.

“This is where they keep the director of the library?” 

Dorian sat behind his desk and didn’t offer a seat to Halward. “My usual space is under construction at the moment. And this way you’ll be less tempted to linger.” He leaned back and crossed his legs. “Well? You’ve come all this way. I can’t imagine it’s a social visit.”

Without an audience his wounded-party routine dropped. “I came to ask you to stop this,” he waved a hand to encompass the room. “Nonsense. You’re a Pavus. Does that mean anything to you?” 

“I find most of what you say means very little to me.” His arms stung in phantom pain and he silently cursed his useless body. What good did it do him to remember those old hurts? What practical purpose could that serve?

“And this makes you happy?” he sneered the word. “You’ve dreamt up a little life where being happy is more important than who you are.”

For a man who knew nothing of his son, Halward talked a big game. Dorian drew a slow, deep breath. “I am more myself here than I ever was under you roof. How much of myself do you think I would be now if you’d been able to complete the ritual?”

“Dorian,” he was pained, as if Dorian thought to bring up the wrong flavor birthday cake from his eighth birthday party. It had been strawberry, a favorite of the daughter of an honored guest, but Dorian was allergic and unable to take a single bite, unable even to sit next to anyone eating it lest the very scent break him out in hives and begin to close his airways.

Dorian was exhausted from living up to Halward’s expectations. “When have you ever cared about me and not the idea of who I should be?”

“I only wanted what was best for you.”

In some twisted version of events, Dorian believed his father thought he was telling the truth. Halward was so practiced a liar, Dorian wasn’t sure he knew when he was lying to himself. “I will not have this conversation again. You made it very clear what you think of me and my place in the family.” _You are no son of mine._ “Stalking me across borders is frankly beneath you and it needs to stop.”

“But what will happen to the House?”

As if Dorian cared. As if a plea for the House would draw him back when it had never worked before. “Great Houses rise and fall. It is the nature of the Imperium. Or, there is still time to make yourself another heir. I have no idea why you never did. You have the means to make it happen.” Even should Halward not wish to pay for the services to get him a biological heir, he could still adopt. It was uncommon, but not unheard of.

“Because I wanted it to be you. You were supposed to be Archon. And I couldn’t bear the pain of failing again.”

Dorian laughed. He laughed and pushed away from the desk. Everything came back to Halward and it always, always would. “I’d like you leave, now.”

“Dorian.”

“Go home.”

The sad look was back, but there was a practiced air about it, and Dorian stopped trusting Halward a long time ago. “Will I ever have your forgiveness?”

As if it was so simple. As if forgiveness could cover how much Halward couldn’t stand the most basic parts of Dorian’s being. “First you have to apologize.”

Whatever response Halward had was lost to the door of Dorain’s office opening. “Oh, sorry.” Bull stuck his head into the room. “I didn’t think you’d be done with your meeting so soon. Am I interrupting?”

“You can come back to clean the room later. My son and I are speaking, you ignorant ox.”

It wasn’t that Dorian couldn’t see through his rage, it was that nothing else mattered other than getting Halward out of his office and somewhere he could never set eyes on Bull again. He leapt over his desk, and grabbed Halward’s arm, shoving him into the hallway. Three doors down, Cullen was standing with his arms crossed. He jerked up when he saw Dorian push Halward out of his office and came jogging forward. 

“I can escort you back to your car.” His firm tone was enough to convey that it was not up for discussion. 

Bull meanwhile had his hand on the back of Dorian’s neck, just touching, not holding him back or pushing him forward. A simple touch to remind Dorian he wasn’t alone.

Halward turned his gaze from Cullen back to Dorian and caught on Bull’s hand resting familiarly against Dorian’s neck. His lip curled in revulsion. “I can find my own way. I won’t trouble you again and I’ll ask you do the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Wow, everyone. I did not expect you to feel so strongly about the end of the last chapter. Reading through your comments this morning was lovely after what turned out to be a hard night. I love the theories and the questions about what's coming next. I don't think I hit what anyone was predicting, but I hope this was a satisfying anyway.


	29. Nobody Said it was Easy

Dorian watched him walk away. His spine straight, his shoulders stiff and perfect. There was so much of what Dorian saw in the mirror that he had to turn away. His skin felt too tight and the skin at the base of his throat felt irritated and itchy. He drew himself up, shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from scratching, and looked to Bull. “I believe I was promised lunch.”

“We can do lunch another time?” Bull had maneuvered himself between Dorian and the receding figure of his father. He looked ready to stalk down after Halward and help Cullen escort him from the College. No matter how pleasing it might have been to see Bull in action, it was a confrontation Dorian preferred to avoid. Halward was years past his fighting prime, but he was still a gifted mage and a fight between the two of them would have been messy. It wasn’t Bull’s job to fight Dorian’s battles. That was for Dorian alone. 

“I think I’ve earned it.” He turned to the opposite stairwell, confident that Bull would follow. It was still a relief, though, when he left Bull’s hand on the small of his back, a light, steady pressure. 

The walk through campus was just long enough to clear some of the anger from Dorian’s mind and ease the tension in his shoulders. He couldn’t believe that Halward had gone to the trouble of traveling under an assumed name just to get in the same room with Dorian. His actions reeked of desperation, and there was a terrible and young part of him that was curious about the timing. Was he sick? Was Aquinea sick? Did it matter?

The look on Halward’s face as he interacted with Bull haunted Dorian. Any distant hope that perhaps Halward might understand some of Dorian’s anger, might see how his actions caused their distance was crushed under Halward’s casual dismissal. Bull was so vital to him, now. He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without Bull at his side. As they came up to the house, Dorian did his best to put the thoughts away. He couldn’t keep the memory of his father off of Campus grounds, but he could prevent them from crossing over into the little haven of Bull’s space. 

It was cold, but he didn’t want to go inside. “Can we sit in the garden?”

Instead of answering, Bull led him back around the house to the bench where they both sat and Bull draped his arm over Dorian’s shoulders. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m doing my best not to.”

Bull squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t look much like him.”

“I take after my mother’s side.” He lifted his chin up to highlight his cheeks and nose, so much like Aquinea. Like her in so many ways physically, he was his father’s son is everything else. Too proud, too stubborn.

After a few moments of quiet his stomach grumbled and Bull stood. 

Bull patted his stomach and then stood. “I’ll go make us something to eat. You’ll be all right out here till I get back?”

Dorian made a show of looking around the fenced in back yard, with the tall trees lining the edges of the property. In the back of the house it was easy to forget they were still on the main campus as there was no sight or sound of students. “I think I can manage.” He closed his eyes and leaned back, tilting his face up toward the sun, trying to draw in as much heat as the weak southern sun allowed. 

What he kept getting stuck on was what Halward thought to accomplish by coming. Did he think that Dorian would see his face and then suddenly realize his place was in Tevinter? Did he think that Dorian could forget the use of blood magic? What did he think seeing Halward in the conference room would change that blood magic had not already attempted to clear? Dorian had no answers and the only person with them could not be trusted with the truth.

Either he lost track of time, or Bull was faster than expected as between one breath and the next, Bull was back at his side, a pile of blankets thrown over one shoulder and a tray of food in the other. “Come on.” He jerked his head toward the center of the yard, where there was a clear circle of soft grass. One of the blankets was spread for them to sit while the other Bull draped over Dorian’s shoulders. “Can’t have you getting cold,” was all he said when Dorian raised an eyebrow at him.

Bull arranged himself on the blanket, leaning back, and patted his lap. “Want to rest here?”

Unwilling to break the silence of his thoughts, Dorian shrugged and stretched out, his head against Bull’s thigh and the blanket cutting some of the chill. Between Bull and the comforter, it was comfortable, instead of cold. 

Bull ran his hand through Dorian’s hair. “I thought we could relax out here, I could cover your eyes while you relax on my lap and you could let me feed you. If you want.”

His first reaction was to tell Bull he wasn’t a child and didn’t need coddling. But then, his head was already in place, and Bull had been kind enough to cut their selection of food into small, bite-sized pieces. Instead of fighting, he relaxed into Bull’s hold. He let Bull cover his eyes with one hand. The light pressure, the way his fingers blocked out the too bright sun and a little of his thoughts let him float. 

Dorian drifted to the sound of Bull’s voice, telling him what food was coming next and deciding the bits of nature that moved in and out of the garden: a butterfly, a pair of fat squirrels, a bumblebee. He could have stayed in that moment forever, and he certainly didn’t want to go back to work, but he couldn’t in good conscience keep them both from their jobs just because he was feeling, well. However he was feeling.

When the food was gone and all that was left was the light pressure of Bull’s fingers against his eyes, Dorian cleared his throat. “You should go back.” He sat up, blinking against the sudden bright light. 

“Are you going back?”

Dorian drew in a breath and held it until he had to take another. “I should. I have things to do.”

Bull smoothed Dorian’s hair back. Gentle. Bull was so gentle with him. “If I stay, will you?”

He wanted. Oh, how he wanted. But he couldn’t let Halward rule every aspect of his life. “I need to go back.” He stood and held out a hand to help Bull up. He wasn’t much help, but it was nice to have Bull’s hands wrapped around his own, heaving him to his feet. 

“Come back here after you’re done?”

“Of course.” He huffed out a sigh. “You can tell me what you want, you don’t have to keep asking me things.”

“Okay.” Bull shrugged. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Dorian watched him walk away. Ambling, loose limbed. Open. He stood for a while trying to work up the energy to walk back. Instead, he picked up the impromptu picnic items and put them back in the house. Bull’s kitchen was clean, as always, so Dorian unloaded his dishwasher, wiped down the already spotless counters. When he did everything he could think of short of cleaning Bull’s bathroom, Dorian locked up and walked to his office. 

With only a few hours left in the day, it felt strange to try and wedge his way back to work, but it was something he had to do. He couldn’t even really explain it to himself. It was all wrapped up in his responsibilities and who he wanted to be and who he thought he was outside of Halward’s sphere of influence. When he came to Skyhold, he made a commitment to the College and to himself to see it through. It was important.

He opened the door to his temporary office and was caught off guard by the scent of his father’s cologne. It hit him like a physical force. Dorian stumbled to his desk, sank into his chair, and dropped his head into his hands. There was a mug on the corner of his. Coffee from earlier that morning. Dorian picked up the mug and hurled it at the wall. It didn’t make him feel any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And sometimes, Dorian doesn't cope as well as he thinks.


	30. No One Ever Said it Would be So Hard

Dorian stayed in his office long past the end of the day. The halls were quiet outside his office, then filled again with the sounds of evening classes and students. He hadn’t been able to focus on his work, but he hadn’t been able to leave either. The conversation with his father was on a continuous loop in his mind as he replayed every word, examined every expression for a hint that Halward was truly sorry. A dozen different ways he looked at it, each leading to a dozen different interpretations until Dorian wasn’t sure what had actually happened and what he imagined.

Close to eight, Bull sent him a text asking if he was all right. Dorian didn’t know how to answer, but he knew he wouldn’t get any closer by sitting in the office. He pushed himself up from the desk and crossed the room to the shards of ceramic littering the floor. He had regretted throwing the mug almost immediately. It hadn’t made him feel any better and only left him with a mess to clean since he couldn’t in good conscience leave it for the cleaning crew. Not when he knew how Bull felt about that kind of treatment of his people and not when it had been a fit of his own childish rage.

He’d have to see someone about carpet cleaner in the morning to get out the stain and the smell of stale coffee. He tossed the big chunks of the mug into the trashcan by his desk and then got down on his knees to pick the finer pieces from the carpet. A sharp sliver caught against his hand and sliced the flesh of his palm. The lingering scent of Halward’s cologne and the sharp tang of blood were enough to get him on his feet and out into the hallway without a thought. He locked the door with shaking, bloody hands.

The trip to Bull’s was something of a blur. He knew where he was going by muscle memory, not conscious choice. Students waved, but Dorian couldn’t remember if he returned their greeting when he found himself at Bull’s front door, his hand raised to knock. It swung open before he got a chance.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to come get you.” Bull’s easy smile slid off his face as he took in Dorian’s state. He pulled Dorian inside and sat him at the kitchen table. “What happened?”

“I broke a cup.”

Bull hummed then went off to the bathroom to return a moment later with a first aid kit. He brought Dorian to the sink to wash his hand and then bandaged him with the quick, efficient movements of someone who’d done similar work endless times.

“I talked to Felix today.”

The news was startling enough to pull Dorian out of his daze. “What? How did you even get his number.”

Bull shrugged. “He gave it to me before he left. We talk sometimes.” He finished with Dorian’s hand and then raised it to kiss the inside of his wrist, far enough from the wound so as not to hurt him. “I didn’t give him the details, but I told him that your father had been here and it didn’t go well. He said he’d wait for you to call when you’re ready.”

Part of Dorian wanted to argue that Bull had no right to tell Felix, they had no right to orchestrate his life. He needed to control how and who he spoke with. But mostly, he recognized he was itching for a fight and Bull wasn’t trying to control anything. Neither was Felix. Of all the people he knew, they wanted what was best for him. Getting help from people who cared wasn’t the same as having his every move cataloged and dictated, but it was hard to remember and harder still to accept.

“Do you exchange beauty tips to pass the time?”

“No, but sometimes he sends me pictures from other people’s gardens.” He pulled out his phone and flipped through a handful of pictures of lovely, warm-climate flowers.

Dorian traced his fingers over the bandage. “You know, these jokes only work if you play the game, too.” Of course they bonded over flowers. Bull probably had Felix asking after his staff for recipes as well. “I don’t know what to do, now.” He collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table.

“What do you mean?” Bull took a seat across from him, but kept a hand on his wrist just above the bandage.

“I thought I was done with him before. ‘You’re no son of mine’ is pretty definitive. But then he did this: the letters, the phone calls, coming all the way out here. He said basically said this was the end, but how long before he re-writes this history, too? How long before he does it all over again. I thought moving to a new country would put enough distance between us that I wouldn’t have to deal with him ever again, but here I am.” He rubbed his uninjured hand across his eyes. “How long before we do this again and again and again until one of us is dead.” The pang he expected at those words, the idea of his father’s death never came. “I’m a terrible fucking person.”

“Nah, you just drew shitty family cards.” He smoothed his thumb over Dorian’s wrist. “When I see families like yours it makes me grateful that there aren’t any under the Qun. My parents could be horrible, but they’ll never touch who I am and the Tamassrans are too closely monitored for there to be abuse. I maybe missed out on the good stuff, but it seems like the good ones are pretty rare.”

It sounded lonely, to Dorian, but his own childhood had been as well. “That doesn’t really solve my problem, though.”

“I don’t know what there is to be solved. Do you want to spend the rest of your life waiting for him to come back? Or do you want to live it for you? You can’t help what other people do.”

“But how do I,” he shook his head and then slumped back in his chair. “I guess that’s a question for Cole.” Even though Cole wasn’t great at giving answers, just posing them after digging around in Dorian’s memories. 

It was the uncertainty of his father’s actions that plagued Dorian. Could he trust that there would be no further contact? And just because Halward gave up did that mean he’d never hear from Aquinea? She was much better at guilt than Halward had ever been, subtle and manipulative in her ways and able to push Dorian into a corner without seeming to try. She’d be much harder to turn away if she showed up at his doorstep. 

He pushed himself up from the table. “I should go.” He didn’t particularly want to be alone, but he’d never stayed the night in Bull’s house without sex first and he was too drained to want it. The thought of his bare little apartment with its empty walls staring back at him was particularly unappealing. He’d never sleep.

Bull stood and wrapped him in his arms, pulling Dorian close to his chest. “You don’t have to go.”

Maybe if he got Bull off with his hand? It wouldn’t take that long and it wasn’t like he minded. “Okay.” He let Bull lead him to the bedroom, let him pull down the blankets while Dorian stripped out of his work clothes. His sleep pants were freshly laundered and waiting on the pillow of what had become Dorian’s side of the bed. 

Bull went through his nighttime routine while Dorian tried to turn off his thoughts. He focused on the feel of the sheets against his chest and the sound of the slight wind that had picked up outside. Bull came back into the room and turned off the light on his way to the bed. He relaxed on his back and pulled Dorian to him so Dorian’s head rested in the hollow of the shoulder.  
It was nice, for a moment to just stretch out in the darkness and be held. But he couldn’t be selfish. Dorian slid his hand down Bull’s bare chest, over his stomach to dip into the waistband of his pants.

Bull intercepted his hand before he got any further and pulled it up to rest on Bull’s stomach. “I’m good, big guy.”

He pulled his hand free and tried again. “I don’t mind.”

Bull removed his hand with slightly more force and sat up. The bedside light flicked on and Bull was suddenly very close, looming into Dorian’s space. “You don’t mind?” 

Dorian shrugged uneasily, not sure where he mis-stepped. “I like making you feel good.”

“Your country fucking sucks, you know that?” He ran his hand over his face. “Let’s be really clear, here, okay? Sex isn’t a price you pay to spend time with me.”

Annoyed by Bull’s pedantic tone, Dorian sat up. “I don’t think of our time together as an exchange of goods.”

“But you think to spend the night in my house you need to get me off?”

He sputtered, because that was exactly what he’d thought, but when Bull said it that way, it sounded wrong. 

Bull leaned in, until his face was an inch away, until their breath mixed and it was hard to focus on Bull’s eyes. “I don’t ever want to have sex with you unless we both want it.”

The words should have been reassuring. Bull seemed to mean them that way, but Dorian just felt foolish. He pulled his knees up and rested his head against them. “I should go.”

Bull’s sigh was so strong it made Dorian’s hair flutter. “That’s the whole point I’m trying to make there. You don’t need to go. I want you here, not for sex, but because you’ve had kind of a shit day and I want to be able to put my hands on you and know you’re all right. I care about you, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Bull fell back in the bed. “So, if you really want to go, I’m not here to stop you. But if you want to stay, I want you here. You’re not a burden.”

He didn’t want to leave. Not any little part of him wanted to get out of the bed and make the long walk back to his apartment. It was still a struggle to uncurl and stretch out beside Bull, to accept his arm around Dorian’s shoulder. Bull turned out the light, soothed his with soft words of reassurance and gentle touches but it was still hours before Dorian found any rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter took kind of an odd turn on me, I was expecting warm fuzzies and got this instead. I blame this summer cold that is kicking my ass and making it hard to stay as focused.


	31. I'm Going Back to the Start

Unsurprisingly, the corporation backed by Halward’s influence chose not to invest in Skyhold College. Evelyn was kind about the information when she delivered it to his temporary office, but Dorian knew she was disappointed and he had nowhere to go with the guilt. It was directly his fault that they didn’t get the money. 

After years and years of playing the game, Dorian could have kept a civil face for half an hour to get what they needed, but it didn’t even occur to him to lie once his father was in his office. In recompense, he started work on another grant application and promised to deliver on their next investor.

The most surprising outcome of Halward’s visit was the letter from his mother that arrived at his apartment several days later. The paper was thick, the note handwritten, and Dorian couldn’t tell if her perfume was imprinted on the page, or if he imagined its faint scent. She asked after his health in the cold climate and then alluded to a rumor about his personal affairs delivered by Halward on his arrival back in Tevinter. 

He handed the letter over to Bull that evening as they curled into each other on Dorian’s couch, the television a bright background to their conversation. “I think she wants me to call her.”

“Why doesn’t she call you?”

“Aquinea Thalrassian doesn’t phone people. She sends them notes and expects them to call.” Had she been able to get away with not using phones at all, Aquinea would have gone her whole life sending letters and notes to her acquaintances. She preferred to be able to plot out her responses in a way that the immediacy of a phone call did not allow.

Bull folded the letter along the lines of the crease and slipped it back into the envelop. “I don’t know. Do you want to talk with her?”

His phone was heavy in his hand. “It might be nice to bookend my parental disappointment.” Before he could put much more thought into the action, he completed the call and waited for Aquinea to pick up.

“Dorian, dear. What a surprise.” She sounded anything but surprised. 

Dorian turned down the volume on the television. “Mother.”

“Did you know that lilac will be the color in season this winter? Dreadful. Too many young people in the Magisterium lead to this kind of thing. Older statesmen know the boundaries of good taste.” Her voice was light and sweet, and she had a way of making the most banal conversation sound of great interest to her. “How are you studies coming along?” 

“I’m not studying at Circle, Mother.” He would worry over her losing some of her mental capacity, but she’d never been very aware of what he did outside the house.

“I know that, Dorian.” He often wondered if her frequent use of his name was a way to keep track of who she was speaking with, or some subtle power play. “Just because you’re out of Circle doesn’t mean your studies should end.”

He sighed, an unforgivable lapse of control. “I’m sure this isn’t what you wanted to talk about.”

“Dorian, dear. You called me.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned into Bull’s shoulder. He should have just thrown the letter away. “I’m not interested in playing your games. What do you want?”

“You get this willfulness from your father’s side of the family. Your cousins are perfectly polite to my sisters.”

He snorted into the phone. “My cousins are terrors and you hate them.”

She was silent for a moment, probably considering the virtue of arguing the point. “Your father came home with the most distressing gossip concerning you, dear. I wondered if he’d perhaps exaggerated in an effort to save face. He was quite certain you’d be returning with him.”

He let his hand drop from his face and ran his hand along Bull’s thigh. Bull was busy playing some mindless action game on his own phone and was only half listening to the conversation, but Dorian knew that if he needed him, he would have Bull’s full attention. “And what gossip is that?”

“Don’t make me say it, Dorian. It’s too vulgar.”

“Well, I’m not privy to the inner workings of Father’s mind. How am I to know what he told you? I haven’t joined a circus.” He plucked at the hideous fabric of Bull’s pants. “Though I am quite fond of the big top.”

Bull snorted a laugh, paused his game, and kissed the top of Dorian’s head.

“Is there someone there with you?” She sounded hesitant, then. Cautious.

“Yes, there is.” He looked up at Bull, not sure how to describe their relationship.

Bull kissed him again and then plucked the phone from his hand. He waited just a moment to see if Dorian would object, then got on with Aquinea. “The Iron Bull, ma’am. I’m your son’s boyfriend.”

Over the sound of Aquinea’s squawked outrage, Dorian laughed and laughed, imagining her face red in anger and embarrassment. Bull tried to speak, but Aquinea’s increasingly loud demands for Dorian drown him out. 

Dorian took back the phone. “There’s no need to be rude, Mother.”

“You are such a child, Dorian. Your father was right to leave you there, it’s nothing less than you deserve.” She meant it as an insult, a way to put him in his place far from the luxury and warmth of Tevinter, but she couldn’t possibly understand how long he’d waited for what he had with Bull in the sleepy little college town.

“I’ll thank you not to contact me again,” he said, calm and at peace with the idea.

“You have no need to worry on that account.” She gave no parting words before disconnecting the call. 

“So,” Dorian leaned back and grinned at Bull, curiously light. “I’m your boyfriend?”

Bull shrugged, easy. “Might as well call it what it is.”

He’d never been anyone’s boyfriend before. It sounded. It sounded good.

#

“You want me to ask you how you feel.” Cole had a block of wood in his hands. He traced patterns on the surface with a thick black pen. Next to him, on the desk, he had a carving kit. 

“Isn’t that what therapists are supposed to ask? How do I _feel_ about it?” They did in all of the TV shows he watched. 

Cole set aside the wood. “Will it help untangle the thread if I ask?”

Dorian sighed and leaned back into the couch. At the top of the wall, all along the office, Cole had a colorful border of monkeys wearing flower crowns hanging from vines. It was more soothing than he expected. “Not really. I’m angry and sad and upset with myself for being so hopeful. Talking about how I feel doesn’t do anything.”

“Tell me about the mug.”

He winced, thinking of his actions. The stain was mostly out of the carpet, and the smell was long gone, but he still looked to the spot every time he entered the office. “I was angry.”

“That doesn’t tell me about the mug.”

“It was heavy in my hand. I imagined what it would be like if Halward was still in the office, if I could throw it at him instead of the wall.”

Cole hummed. “Do you think it would help? If you were to physically hurt your father the way he hurt you?” 

Yes. His internal response was immediate. He took a breath and then another and gave a more measured answer. “No.”

“It’s all right to be conflicted.”

“But not all right to want to hurt him. I’m working on it.” It was hard not to be angry. Not to be furious that he was the one who had to work when it was Halward who had done the harm.

“I know. And you’re doing a very good job. That’s our time for the week. Will you tell The Iron Bull that the rabbits are very grateful for the food? I am as well.”

#

When the phone rang and it was Felix. “It’s early for our call.” He’d been expecting the call for days since he sent back his invitation to the party. He put a smile in his voice to head off any ill will. 

“Your reply came with the mail today.” He didn’t sound angry, exactly.

“Ah.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised. But we talk every day. I had hoped you could tell me yourself.” Disappointment. So much worse. 

The thing of it was, it wasn’t really the conversation to have over the phone. It was the sort of thing to have in person, where he could stand before Felix and let him see his sincerity. He was afraid Felix would think it was a rash decision, or that Dorian was hiding. Neither of those things was true. 

“I don’t think I’m coming back to Tevinter.” Words he’d been thinking, but hadn’t yet been able to say aloud. To anyone.

“Never?”

Beyond Felix, what was there for him? For so long, he struggled to find a way to live his life within the confines of his father’s expectations, and then the demands of Alexius’ desperation. He thought eking out a moment of pleasure was the same as living a true life. He couldn’t go back. “I’m sorry.”

Felix huffed a soft laugh. “I wondered. When I saw you there, you looked happy. I can’t remember the last time I saw you happy. I almost asked you then, but I didn’t think you had an answer yet.”

“It feels better being here than it’s felt anywhere.” Bull was sleeping on is couch, head tipped back, on hand shoved into the waistband of his jeans, the other relaxed and open at his side. “I can do some good here.” There was still the matter of the library’s roof, grants to write. It would be months before they heard back about the first one. 

But more than his professional life, he was invested in the people around him. He wanted more chess games with Cullen, and wanted to help Krem and Lace find their way together. He wanted to go to Vivienne’s notorious summer house party at the end of the school year. 

And there was Bull. The thought of something long term, something permanent was terrifying. Some days he didn’t know how to manage his own life let alone a life together, but it was worth it. Arranged relationships were easy in comparison. The parties might hate each other, but they were bound with contracts and social obligations. Without those, Dorian felt blind. He had nothing to fall back on but trust. And that was a hard thing to learn.

It was worth it, though. All of it. 

“You can visit. I wish that you would. There’s always a place for you.” He liked the idea of Felix in Skyhold, taking the best thing from his former life and working it into his current one. “The summers are supposed to be less frigid.”

“I’ll take you up on that.” Felix drew in a breath. “You’ll be missed here, though I’m so pleased you found a place of your own.”

Dorian crossed the room and draped himself over Bull. Even asleep, Bull brought his free hand up to wrap around Dorian’s shoulders, pulling him in tight. “Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the end of this kind of snuck up on me. When I started writing this, I never expected to do the equivalent of a nano project, but i ended up writing just over 50,000 words in about 31 days. This was supposed be a third of the length and way less serious. 
> 
> I want to thank you all so much for coming along for the ride. I loved reading your comments and valued every single kudo that came in. They kept me going on the days that writing 1500 words seemed impossible. 
> 
> I know that the ending leaves some open spaces. We don't find out what happens with Krem and Lace, we don't get to see Felix's party. Word hasn't come back yet on the grant, but I love the idea of Dorian living in this evolving world, that it still continues after I put the last period on his last page. So, while some bits are open ended, I hope that you feel satisfied with where we leave Dorian. This was very much his story and he's still a work in progress.
> 
> Thank you all again, so, so much!!


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